Revolts and Revenge
by cheeseandoreosHP
Summary: Alternate to Mockingjay, where Madge survives. Why didn't Gale come back for her when he saved most of 12? What will Gale think when she turns up in 13, completely changed from the person she used to be? Can they really just pick up where they left off? Gale/Madge
1. Chapter 1

**My sister keeps trying to steal the laptop. I'm sure Suzanne Collins never had that problem :)**

**So I don't own hunger games! **

**I hope you like it!**

The girl refused to sit down. She stood in front of the rebels, hands at her sides, tall, proud. Her hair was so matted with a mixture of mud, blood and ash that they could not tell what colour it was. In places, it was plastered to her face. Her dress colour was unidentifiable, and the small areas of skin left uncovered were smeared with the same mixture of mud, blood and ash that now characterised her hair colour. Her lips were cracked and swollen. She had a gash going from knee to ankle, parts of her dress were signed away, and her body flecked with small, shallow burns that looked to be caused by sparks. On her left cheek, there was a more serious looking burn, but nothing too bad.

It was her eyes that most intrigued the rebels of four. They had already spent hours trying to place her eyes. They were certain they had seen them before. They look out from her grief blackened face, the clearest, most beautiful shade of blue the people of four had ever seen, like the sea, and there was a depth to them that could only be imagined. Surely, one would not forget seeing such a pair of eyes?

There was a hint of something in those eyes, too. Something the people of four could not quite put their finger on. These eyes had once danced with laughter, shone with happiness, sparkled with youth and vigor and the joy of being alive...

Now there was only emptiness. Grief and loss and despair, forming an abyss of suffering. A void within the woman that made you want to look away.

She was an avox. Or at least, she was as quiet as one. Most probably she was from the Capitol. Snow was becoming increasingly fond of burning things. Only a week ago, he had given the order to burn a house full of avox's. As it they hadn't been punished enough, thought Mrs Hadds. It fit with the woman, however. How did she escape? They all had many questions, of course they did, none of which the poor girl was likely to be able to answer.

What's your name? That seemed important. How old are you? That seemed important, too. She did not look so very old, not as old as me, thought Mrs Hadds. She wasn't young either. It was hard to tell. In her eyes, there was grief and wisdom enough for any 70 year old. But the lines of her skin told another story. She was tall, with a full figure. She had clearly left her days of girlhood behind her years ago. Early 30s, wondered Mrs Hadds. Perhaps late 20s? Who knows? Not I. Perhaps her. Perhaps not even her. Suffering ages us all, and this woman had suffered well beyond her years, way beyond all their years. That much was clear.

As to the rest, it was guesswork. Unless she answered their questions. But it soon became clear she either couldn't or wouldn't. It was only natural, thought Mrs Hadds, that the girl did not want to talk. But wasn't she even a little curious as to how the war was playing out?

As it frequently did these days, Mrs Hadds mind wandered to her grandson, Finn. She wondered absently what he would make of the silent, sorrowful girl who had been through so much and would not share her woes. She was certain of this much; Finnick would be able to get her to talk. He could get anyone to do anything, even walk through the gates of hell.

"Could you tell us your name, my dear?" Asked Mrs Hadds. She cursed herself as soon as the words were out of her mouth. How stupid, how insensitive, how plain rude! Of course the poor girl couldn't tell them her name! She was an avox!

"Are you an avox?" Asked someone else. Way to beat about the bush, thought Mrs Hadds, throwing a glance at her son in law and grandson, who sat in the corner. Mr Odair returned her look with a ghost of a smile. He was worried about Finn. Of course he was. They all were.

"You can just nod or shake your head, my dear!" Mrs Hadds urged.

The girl stared straight ahead, unflinching, unmoving, completely devoid of emotion. Either she was deaf, or she really didn't want them to know.

"I swear I've seen her somewhere before!" cursed Mr Andrews, rebel leader of four, from the corner.

Only then did the woman respond. She looked at Mr Andrews, her blue eyes filled with hate and mistrust. Her glare would have silenced a much more insensitive man than Trie Andrews.

Mr Odair gasped, and hit himself on the forehead. Everyone turned to look at him. He turned to his son.

"Taylor, didn't Finn take her to one of those fancy Capitol dinners?" He cried.

The girl started, and shook her head, somewhat urgently, too urgently, thought Mrs Hadds. She really didn't want them to know. What was it exactly she was hiding?

Taylor look up, almost lazily. There were deep purple circles under his eyes, dark enough to match the woman's. He looked at the woman a moment, then looked at his father.

"To be honest dad, Finn has taken a lot of girls to a lot of fancy Capitol dinners. If she is one of his dates, she's not worth saving. Those girls are just more of the girls Finn despises. They're all idiots with too much gold, eating out of the Capitol's hands. They make Finns life a misery. None of them are Annie."

His father cuffs him on the back of the head, though gently. "Taylor, the girl's an avox! Doesn't that tell you enough about her for you to know she's not just another of the Capitol's puppets? She's been through hell and back! Have some respect!"

Taylor's cheeks flushed. He got out of his seat and walked over to the girl. Stood in front of her, he saw her amazing eyes were even more tragic up close. She held herself up straight, looking him straight in the eye without flinching. She was brave. It was one of the most amazing displays of courage the young boy had ever seen. A level of courage he had always seen in Finn. A level of courage he could respect.

Shame rushed through him, making him want to vomit.

If she was an avox, and she must be, or else she would have answered their questions... If she was an avox, it meant she was not the kind of person who could stand by and watch whilst cruelty happened. It meant she was the kind of person that stood up for what was right. The kind of person who acted. At the cost of her life. At the cost if the right to speak.

She was exactly the kind of person Finn was. Exactly the kind of person he aspired to be.

As all this went through his mind, he continued to look her straight in the eye. Suddenly, he couldn't bear it any more. He reached out to do, he didn't know what, take her hand or something, offer her some kind of comfort.

For the first time since she'd arrived, a flicker of something akin to fear sparked in her eyes.

Cursing himself for acting like the child everyone but him knew he was, Taylor hurried to reassure her.

"No one here will hurt you. You are safe. Don't be afraid, please." he paused. "Dammit, I wish we knew your name!"

She squared her shoulders ever so slightly, rekindling their eye contact by looking directly into his eyes. A boy she knew. A boy who had not recognised her.

There was not a trace of fear in her as she opened her mouth and said "My name is Madge Undersee. And I am not afraid. I am angry."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: I don't own Hunger Games. Shame. **

**Sorry for any upsetting themes in this. I'm not sure if there are any, depends on your perspective. And it might be a bit cheesy. I think it is, anyway. But then again, I love a bit of cheese :)**

Madge

They don't believe me. Of course they don't. There are times when I don't believe myself. Whoever I am, I am no longer Madge Undersee. I am merely a ghost of the girl I used to be.

Oh, and I'm supposed to be dead. That must be pretty confusing for the rebels, too.

They are rebels, I think. Their faces are hardened with grief and loss. They all carry guns and grim smiles. Even little Taylor.

I can't feel anything but bleak satisfaction. The rebellion Katniss always longed for, whether she knew it or not, has come. Even if it is too late to save...

My breath catches in my throat, and I realise it would have been wiser to continue pretending to be an avox. Now I have to answer questions. Questions I am not equipped I deal with. Not yet.

I feel the fury blaze within me, a flame that cannot be quelled. It is all I can do not to grab one of the guns and march all the way to the Capitol myself. I never really understood why Gale found it so difficult to subdue his anger. Now I do. Once you have felt he first pick of a flame begin to consume your soul, there is no going back.

Gale. Gale. Gale. My heart beats out a steady rhythm, each heartbeat crying his name into the black abyss of nothing. Agony sears through me every time he crops up on my thoughts, but somehow he is my only thought. The only person to occupy my brain. Awake or asleep, dead or alive. Forever.

I should be grieving. I can't. I am too angry.

Until the day after I die, that's what he'd said. That's how long I'll love you, Madge Undersee. Never doubt it.

I'd never doubted it, until two days after the fire. Gale Hawthorne, my love for you lives on long after the day after your death. You have no idea how much I wish I could tell you that.

Perhaps I have been learning to live, or perhaps I have been learning to die. Finn's favourite quote. I'd always found it a bit depressing, if I'm being honest. Now I understand. Too late. I have no interest in learning to live. I will see the fall of the Capitol, and then I will die.

Since it seems only right I think of everyone I love, just to complete the searing pain and raging anger running through me, I think of Annie, Katniss, Johanna, Prim, Posy, my parents and Mrs Everdeen. Though I do not know him very well, I throw a thought in Peeta's direction too.

"That's impossible!" Snarls the despicable Mr Andrews. "You are dead!"

I sigh, then raise my voice, mirroring his irritation. "Sorry to disappoint you. I tell you what, why don't you pick up that gun and finish the job?"

Taylor intervenes. "I trust you're acquainted? Or need I introduce you?"

"No. I know Mr Andrews just fine." I all but snarl. "So you haven't told them about your little sideline then?"

"No clue what you're talking about." He did. I saw it from the flicker of fear in his eyes. The old Madge, the one who cared, wouldn't be doing this. She would have gone along with his silly little charade, to spare his reputation, answered all his questions quietly. She would have been timid, but truthful and polite and gentle. She would have looked him unflinching in the eye, and trust his conscience to do the rest.

The new Madge was too angry. Not at him in-particular, for there was a reason people called them petty enemies rather than just enemies, after all. She was angry at the entire world who took away her parents and Gale and her friends.

She didn't have the belief in conscience and patience as she had once held. She couldn't believe in the good of all man, as she had once so naïvely done. They had watched her burn. It was time for her to repay the favour.

"Mr Andrews made a lot of money from trafficking poisons for the Capitol. One night, he slipped my mother a drug that had her incoherent for weeks. She was locked in her own private hell, as if her day to day life was not bad enough. She screamed out for her sister while writing in agony, a sister long ago lost to the games. When she woke, she was never the same. Everyday, she revisits the arena where her sister died. Or she did." I drew a deep breath. "The funny thing was, there was no record of the Capitol ever having asked Mr Andrews to give the drug to my mother. He did it on his own accord. He had quarrelled with my father. He had met me in District 12 at a dinner my father hosted, and demanded I marry him. When my father refused, he grew angry. He took his revenge on the most vulnerable person he could find- the one person both my father and I loved with all our hearts."

There is silence in the room. Every man, woman or child is now doubting their leader. I smile, and survey the scene. At least they are not asking me questions.

That is the moment I realize; I am taking pleasure in the pain of someone else. This fire, this loss, has made me into what the Capitol has forever been trying to do unsuccessfully. It has made me into a monster. The only thing that makes me happy is the pain of others, and the thought of revenge has consumed me.

This is not what Gale would want for me.

For a moment, I panic, floundering around in my brain for an off switch to end this madness. Then, the fire consumes me once more. Gale is dead. Nothing matters anymore.

I whisper his name under my breath as the rebels begin to interrogate Trie Andrews.

"I was angry, and drunk! I didn't- I mean- I have regretted what I did every day since. I just needed to exact my revenge. I was young, and believed I was young, and I wasn't thinking."

"You killed her. You took a part of her away, and she began to waste away, piece by piece. You thought you could get to me through taking away one of the only people who truly cared about me?" This is painful. Excruciatingly so. I don't want to think of my mother- nor what happened to the aunt I never knew. I would rather they asked me questions. "You didn't know what you were doing? You acted out of spite and out of vengeance, as I have every day since the fire. You'll just have to live with that." I turn away, and my voice goes soft. I remember the beautiful lilt of Gale's voice when he was soothing me, and a pain stabs at my chest. "I wish I could forgive you. I wish I could feel human enough to understand what you did. I'm sorry that I can't. I have been too thoroughly destroyed for the possibility of ever allowing words of forgiveness to leave my lips again. For that I am sorry. I cannot put your mind at peace, however much my mother may have wished it when she still had her sanity."

I am gently stabbing with every soft, sugar coated word. Creating new wounds, twisting the knife deeper into the man I despise. I once told Gale, upon asked why I was so easily forgiving, that forgiveness and understanding are the most formidable weapons you can possess in the face of the enemy. Even when everything that made me who I was is gone, I still exercise this theory.

Mr Andrews winces. "I am sorry, Miss Donner." he whispers. I know the apology is only half for me. He is addressing me by my mothers maiden name.

"Undersee." I say.

"Well!" says Mrs Hadds, Finn's grandmother, in an attempt to diffuse the tension. "Miss Undersee, we need to fill out a form of acceptance, filing you as one of he rebels and pledging your support to the rebels. I am afraid, if you do not, we will have to take you as prisoner. I am more sorry than I can say about that, but we simply cannot afford to have you running off to the Capitol."

I look at her a moment. "The Capitol took everything from me, Mrs Hadds. My family, my friends, my home." Gale. I add silently to myself. I am not ready to share that pain, even with this most kind of people.

"I know, Madge." She whispers, taking my hand.

"Ok, I'll fill out the form."

"Ooh, Good! Right, full name."

"Magnolia Maysilee Undersee."

"Age?"

"17." There is some surprise at that. They had expected, what exactly? Do I look older or younger? I have not yet seen my reflection in- what? Days? Weeks? Months? I have no idea.

"Date of Birth?"

"16th August."

"District origins?"

"12."

"Profession, if applicable?"

"Mayors daughter, named as the one who would eventually take over his position."

"Magnolia Maysilee Undersee, do you henceforth pledge allegiance to the rebels and their cause? Do you promise to do no harm to said cause, under torture or threat of death? Do you swear to do everything in your power to bring about the downfall of the Capitol, even at the cost of your own life?"

"Upon my honor." I whisper.

"This is stupid!" calls an elderly woman from the crowd. "She's a schoolgirl. Little threat to the cause, and too young to be giving her life to help us!"

I look up. "Ma'am, I mean no disrespect. The Capitol does not consider age of importance. They did not when throwing children into the games. They did not when they bombed 12, and children from newborn to approaching adulthood succumbed to the flame. They did not then. They do not now."

"Miss Undersee, we are not the Capitol. We are not willing to sacrifice a mere girl of 17, even if it is for the greater good." Says Mrs Hadds. I look at her.

"When I was 5 years old, I asked how old you were. You said you didn't know. I asked why, and you replied there was no one on this earth who knew. That suffering ages us all, and you had suffered beyond your years. Mrs Hadds, I too have suffered. The Capitol does not prize youth, at least not the way you do."

"That is all well and good-" begins another stranger. I could tell this argument had cropped up many times before. I interrupted.

"Katniss said to me, yes, I know I am full of quotes. It is a long time since I have been considered a child in this war." I turn to Mrs Hadds. "Hate fuels my existence. I barely know who I am, let alone if I want to live. If I can help I will. For I am damaged. Beyond repair. It is a small sacrifice, a sacrifice I am not only willing to make, but one I will make gladly."

I let the silence wash over me. The real Madge fought for release. Gale was dead. I whispered it over and over to myself until the person locked inside me went away, wrapped up in her own grief.

It was painful to remember. So I didn't. It was painful to talk. So I didn't. It was painful to exist. So I didn't. Or at least, I tried not to.

I washed in the cramped tin bath, and dressed in the T-shirt and shorts they gave me. I brushed my hair, scrubbed away the soot from the fire, the blood of my friends and the mud of the woods that reminded me so much of Gale. Until, when I looked in the mirror, it looked like me. The girl who looked back, however much she may look like Madge Undersee, was not. That hurt me more than anything, more than the pain and anger and loss. Eventually, I just stopped looking.

There is nothing worse than losing the people you love.

Except perhaps losing yourself.

Around my neck, I wore a dirty piece of string. It contrasted with my ivory coloured skin now I was clean. I didn't care. It had on it, not a precious gold charm or a diamond, not anything you would expect the mayor's daughter to have.

It was a single charm. A button, tied around my neck by a piece of once yellow ribbon.

It wasn't an ordinary button. It was in the shape of a heart, engraved with two sets of initials. GH &MU.

I wasn't told about the rebellion I had no interest in hearing. Katniss was dead. The rebellion was hers and she had not lived to see it. I closed my ears to all procrastination. I did not want to know. I myself would kill Snow, in the absence of my dearest friend. That time had not come yet. It would. I would wait. I had plenty of time, there was no rush.

In the meantime, I blocked out the world.

It was my birthday. I had told them my date of birth, and now they were determined to celebrate my 18th birthday. Why? What was the point? What was the point to anything?

I was answered that morning. "We still haven't told them in 13 you're alive." said Mrs Hadds, bringing in a breakfast tray. "Radio lines are down. Would you like to go?"

I shook my head. There wasn't any point.

"Are you sure? I thought you would like to see Miss Everdeen for your birthday. You two are inseparable, according to my Finnick."

I sat up so quickly the tea tray went flying through the air, hitting the wall at the end of the bed and smashing.

"Katniss is alive? In thirteen?" I cry.

"Of course she is, you silly thing! Where else would she be? Didn't you see the rebels lift her out the arena?"

I gasp. "My god, Mrs Hadds, I've been so stupid, wasted so much time!"

"Don't be silly dear! We did wonder why you didn't ask after her..." she sighs. "Finn will be pleased to see you!" she laughs.

A flicker of hope lights in my chest. "Mrs Hadds, did anyone survive the fire? In 12, I mean?"

She sighs. "I'm sorry Madge. There were survivors but none of them were your family."

I look at her kind, lined face and feel a sudden flicker of guilt in my chest. I had not been thinking of my parents. I had been thinking of Gale. Was it wrong to have wishes beyond their survival?

"I was kinda wondering about Gale?"she looks blank so I elaborate. "Gale Hawthorne? Katniss's cousin?"

She smiles. "Oh yes, my dear. In fact, Gale's become something of a hero in 13. He was the one who saved a lot of 12."

I pause, digesting this information. Gale saved a lot of people from 12? And yet he didn't manage to save me? A small part of me wants to know why.

I smile though, because the pure and undiluted joy running through me is too hard to repress.

"I've wasted so much time, Mrs Hadds." I whisper.

She smiles gently. "Then let us not waste a second longer." she says, smiling.

I get into the helicopter that belongs to the rebels. As I begin to belt myself in, Mrs Hadds calls out. "Oh and Madge? Happy birthday!"

As the helicopter pulls away, I blow her a kiss. I smile to myself. How quickly I had gone from one end of the spectrum to the other. This morning I had just about given up on everything. In this moment life had never looked so beautiful.

I think of my parents a second. It is doubtful either survived. Downright impossible, more like. I made my peace with that. A while ago I think. I hadn't realized it, but I never really given up on hope of Gale's survival.

I sigh and sit back, letting the pure bliss wash over me. It only takes about 2 hours to cross from 4 to 13. Soon, I shall be seeing Gale.

I soon realize we are far from out of danger. 4 is near 13. We have to go backwards across the districts, as they're all a ring around the Capitol. That means flying across 3 first. Then 2. Finally 1.

I let the sound of bombs and the nut and god knows what else wash over me. I am in danger. So what? I have been in danger everyday of my life.

I close my eyes and think of quiet moments with Gale.

The ball, after Katniss and Peeta first came back from the games. The way his eyes flickered up to meet mine. I yawn by accident, and laughter lines fill his face. The time I first played piano for him, my fingers running across the keys, coaxing music out the reluctant instrument.

The time Katniss and I went hunting, and stumbled across him in the woods. The time he showed me the lake, and we ended up swimming in the lake.

And then the less specific memories. The feel of his hands around my waist. His lips against mine. The way he'd always catch my eye, and his mouth would crinkle into a smile.

The way it felt when he said my name, whispered softly in his beautiful lilt of a tone.

I am jerked back to the present by the sudden swerve of the helicopter. We have entered 1. The capitols territory. We have not passed through unnoticed, as I had hoped we would.

"Here it's safe, here it's warm." I sing under my breath. Then I stop, and my heart falters, as I feel pain shoot through the left side of my face, and some warm, sticky substance gush onto my face.


	3. Chapter 3

**I burnt mine and my sisters tea while writing this. I'm sorry if Gale/I repeat myself a bit in this chapter, I just got really into writing it and kind of lost myself in the story! **

**And in future I probably won't adhere so closely to Suzanne Collins storylines, but it seemed appropriate in this bit, and it was quite interesting to write Gale's take on the conversation between him and Katniss. I felt some of Gale's perspective was lost in the book, not because of the book itself, but because of how Katniss was feeling at the time. **

**Also, none of the beliefs expressed in this story reflect any of my own beliefs or view on religion. **

**Once again, I do not own the Hunger games :)**

Gale.

I grip the pen tighter, concentrating desperately on Coin, on keeping all thoughts of Madge from my mind. Somehow, I never seem to succeed. There was a tight knot in my stomach as I contemplated my failed attempts to save her, of the scream that had risen with the smoke into the morning dawn as I walked away.

I could almost feel the flaming debris on my arms as I closed my eyes, could almost taste the choking mix of blood and ash and smoke, could see the district burning as I looked on it from my safe spot in the woods.

I had loved her.

I had let her die.

Her face fills my minds eye, not as the girl who I had left to battle the flames but as the girl who had sat with me in the woods for ten hours straight when no one else would or could.

She was a good hunter. You wouldn't expect her to be, what with being the mayor's daughter and all the pretty dresses and gold pins. But I'd never seen such a natural. She picked up in mere weeks what had taken me years to master. Admittedly she was a little shaky on the bow and arrow, but she was a whizz when it came to poisoned darts. It was such a genius idea. I never would have thought of it. In all my years of hunting, of watching the games, I've never seen anything like it.

I thought of her with her nose scrunched up in laughter, eyes bright and shining, hand in mine. I thought of the girl who had made mockingjays sing in Katniss's absence, when I thought the time for that was long gone. The girl who laughed aloud with the pure joy of being alive every time she crossed the district boundaries. I thought of the girl who climbed trees, not to get an advantage on her prey, but for the pure exhilaration of getting a little higher. Of becoming a little freer.

But mostly, when I thought of Madge, I thought of sunlight. Sunlight and strawberries.

I'd like to say I believed in an afterlife. Like to say I believed Madge had gone to a better place. A place on a cloud, with chubbly little winged angels and a man in with a beard. I think Madge would be perfectly at home there. But I wasn't religious- I was realist. There was no heaven. Not in Panem. Only hell.

There wasn't forgiveness either.

Not for me.

Not for anyone.

What excuse did I have, for abandoning her? I didn't. I'd exaggerated the severity of the flames to Katniss, insisted there was no way on earth I could have saved her, told her Rory, Vick and Posy needed me- that the whole of 12 did.

It was true that, had it not been for me, we wouldn't have made it. I'm not being egotistical. If I were, I'd claim I swooped in heroically to save Madge, but found her dead body, and managed to escape with only a broken heart to show. I'm not exaggerating anything. I've lost who I am, but I'm not going to lie to myself. Bitter, sarcastic, angry me.

The truth was I was afraid. More afraid than I had ever been. I could have saved her. I might have made it. She might have made it.

I was too afraid.

Death was only a small part of my fear. It was significant, because I am a coward. I'll admit that freely, to anyone who asks. (Or not. I have been lying all this time). The biggest part was the fear of seeing her, the fear of what might await me if I dared set foot in her burning home. The fear of seeing her broken, seeing her corpse ravaged by flames, standing there in that building and realizing I'd never see her smile again.

So I'd made a choice.

Now I just had to live with that choice. And it was tearing me up inside, the guilt killing me more thoroughly than any flames ever could, more than seeing her like that ever would have. I was a coward. I didn't want to live any more. Or not precisely cease to live. I wanted never to have existed at all.

For the survivors of 12, for my family, for Katniss, Prim, Coin, to everyone, I was a hero... Everyone but myself. Because I knew the truth. I was a coward. I was worse than a coward. I was the lowest of the low, the scum of the earth. I was weak, and I was full of fear, and I was tormented, day by day, by her face.

What was the point of being a hero if you couldn't save the one person you really wanted to save? What was the point of trying, if your reason for fighting had gone? What was the point of hoping, if all the light in the world had deserted you?

What was the point of living if she was dead?

It was entirely my fault.

I used to rave about the Capitol for hours. I still do, actually. Only now it seems pointless. There is no doubt I am hypocrite. Because the Capitol may have caused the flames, but I stood by and watched as she burned. I let it happen.

I could have stopped it.

I've seen the transformation happen, little by little. From Gale Hawthorne, the boy with so much more anger and hate than he could possibly hold, the boy who could barely keep his poker face in place as they committed yet another atrocity under the people's nose, into the Gale Hawthorne who thought of nothing but war. The Gale Hawthorne who had learnt nothing from his father's mistakes, from his friends, from his own. The 'War Hero.' Soldier Hawthorne.

There were parts to everyone here that I couldn't understand.

Katniss- everything she'd been through had transformed her beyond recognition. Coin- there was a hardness to her, a bitterness, and no one could figure out what had put it there. Finnick- there was so much more to him than met the eye. Beetee- the weaponry engineer who understood everything his hands would do, all the damage they would cause, and regretted every last drop of blood his brainpower would result in spilling.

Then there was just me. Gale Hawthorne, the thoroughly un-complex little boy from twelve trying to play at war and finding himself completely out of his depth.

Trying to forget the girl he loved, would always love, whom he had practically sentenced to death.

Somehow, there was no one in that room that I understood less than myself.

"Soldier Hawthorne?" I jumped, my pen slipping out my grip and onto the floor.

"Yes?" I snapped.

"What do you think?"

What did I think of what? I looked frantically at Katniss, who had the ghost of a laugh playing at her lips.

She didn't, because Katniss never laughed, not anymore.

Not even in the woods.

"I think it's an excellent idea." I said. Coin looked slightly taken aback, but nodded grimly.

"Alright. If you all really think this could possibly help her, then I'm happy with that. Better lose a day than another month, like you say. Time is a valuable weapon in war, after all. Soldier Hawthorne, you will accompany Soldier Everdeen to District 12 by helicopter. I want twelve helicopters circling at all times, to make sure she's safe."

"Yes, ma'am." I said, smiling tightly and inclining my head.

Go with Katniss to twelve... That didn't sound so bad.

Wait, what?

"Now remember, though this isn't an actual mission, there is a strong likelihood you will be targeted passing over the mountains, where we have managed to track a small number of Capitol forces, trying to prevent us leaving the district. It's a short journey, and relatively risk free, but we're giving you these just in case."

"And- um, what exactly are these?" I enquired, on Katniss's behalf as well as my own, because she looked pretty out of it. She always did now. Her mind is on Peeta as frequently as mine is on Madge.

"They're bulletproof vests." Beetee replied. Without any other warning than that, he threw a rock from his desk at me.

It ricocheted off the vest, hitting the opposite wall with so much force it smashed through. I rubbed my chest.

"Maybe, but I'm going to have some bruise there in the morning."

Beetee grinned. "They're the most basic ones I could find, Coin's orders. She reckons the journey isn't high risk enough to warrant them at all, but as it's our mockingjay-"

My gaze snaps to Katniss for the signs of outrage and anger I expect, but her eyes are oddly blank. She's still thinking of Peeta. She's probably not taken in a single word any of us have said.

I put a hand on her arm, just to remind her that I'm still there. That she's not alone in her pain.

She jumps, and attempts a smile. It isn't her real smile. It's her diplomatic smile- the one she perfected in the first games and has been using ever since, on Snow, on the Capitol citizens, on Coin, sometimes even on Peeta. Sometimes even on me.

In the end, she can't even manage her diplomatic smile. Her lip sort of trembles, and she gives up. Beetee understands, because he nods and sends her a genuine smile.

"Thank you. For everything." She whispers, and he nods, understanding the exact meaning behind the words.

Katniss isn't thanking him for the vests, or for the mediocre protection he's provided her with, practically against Coin's orders. She's thanking him for her life. She's thanking him for the chance to fight.

"You're a great soldier, Katniss, but you're an even greater person. Anyone would have done the same."

Not everyone, I thought, and pain seared through me.

Had it been Katniss and not Madge who was burning, would I have had the guts to save her? Or would I have left her to burn, just like I had left Madge?

I loved them both. Katniss was like a sister. She was my best friend, and she understood without asking and smiled without thinking.

But Madge... Madge was so much more. So much more than anyone I had ever met.

Had been.

_Madge had been so much more..._

We belt ourselves into the helicopter, testing our headsets and talking about everything and nothing at all.

Looking at Katniss, I think that perhaps my situation is enviable. I may be having to live with the decision I made every day, and it may be unbearable, but I know for certain Madge is dead. I know nothing can happen to her, because the worst already has. I know she's safe, in a strange sense of the word.

Katniss doesn't know where Peeta is or what is happening to him. She doesn't know what kind of torture they'll put him through, whether he is dead or alive, whether he'll come back the same person he once was. Even if he's alive, or if he thinks about her.

The truth was I doubted she'd ever see Peeta again. They could be conducting all sorts of awful experiments on him as we spoke, using him as a human guinea pig, and we would be none the wiser. He could already be dead, and if he wasn't be was as good as. Because those sort of experiences changed people, and when you thought they weren't coming back they did, but they were never the same.

The girl in front of me was proof of that.

We arrived in twelve, but Katniss seemed hesitant as she unbuckled the seat belt.

"You have to see." I whispered. "You need to understand what they're capable of."

The truth was, I wasn't so sure I was ready to see it again myself. No words in the world could equip Katniss for what she was about to see, and no amount of emotional detachment could keep me from falling apart inside.

Madge was gone. She was gone. She was gone.

Katniss tried her diplomatic smile again, with only a small amount more success. I couldn't return it.

Seeing the blackened mess of what was once my district was awful. It made everything fresher and more vivid.

District 12 may have been a difficult place to live. But it was my home. No matter how controlling the peace keepers got, how many times they beat us, how many people dropped dead of starvation, however repressing the atmosphere was, I'd felt a certain security. A certain comfort in the familiarity. Every day was the same. You got up in the morning, you went to bed at night. You hunted and mined and did whatever you had to so you could survive. Now, nothing was so secure.

Surviving wasn't so simple.

Madge. Madge. Madge. I could make out the empty shell of the justice building, make out the shattered remains of Madge's home. I closed my eyes, and she seemed so much closer than before, so much more alive. But she was dead. And it was there, in that very spot, that I had watched it happen.

The buzzing of the helicopter filled my ears as I tried desperately to feel nothing, yet the pain of everything that had happened here flooded my very soul.

I am jerked back into reality as I spot Katniss, curled in a ball on the ground. Panic floods me. I can't lose another person I love. Not here. Not anywhere.

"Katniss?" I ask, trying to keep all urgency out of my voice. "Should I come down?"

"No. I'm fine." She replies, an edge to her voice that tells me she's not fine at all. I understand that. God do I understand that.

The district is just one large expanse of black and grey. Ash and blood and tears, surrounded by forest. One big sea of destruction.

The ironic part is, the one thing Madge really wanted for our district was equality between the miners and the townspeople. Now, in the districts annihilation, she has it. If not for the victors village, you wouldn't be able to distinguish between my house and the bakery.

The thought makes me want to scream aloud. They're all dead! When they bled, they all bled the same. Is that what you wanted, Madge? Is that your lifelong ambition achieved?

I'm beyond reason. No one would have wanted this. Least of all Madge. This wasn't anything to do with her.

Besides, I'm not angry at Madge. I'm angry at the world. I'm angry at the Capitol. But most of all I'm angry at myself.

Madge is the last person on this stupid blue planet I would ever be angry at.

When the driver tells me it's time to go back, I grasp at his suggestion like a drowning man at a lifeboat, desperate for any sort of distraction from the grey mess of my home below me and the much more sinister desperation of my thoughts.

I help Katniss up the rope ladder into the helicopter.

"You alright?" I ask. Stupid question. Of course she isn't! None of us are. But she knows what I'm really asking.

Is your sanity still intact after that?

"Yeah." She replied, reaching up to wipe her brow.

She is accompanied by a yowling backpack. She scowls, and begins to scour the horizon for any sign of enemy aircraft.

I had to fight down the insane desire to laugh.

"Now I know why you wanted to come back." I say, nodding to the backpack. She scowls again.

"If there was ever any chance of his survival." She replies. "Oh shut up."

"Pretty bad down there?" I ask. Another stupidly obvious question. I need to start thinking before I speak! A vision of Madge fills my minds eye.

"Couldn't be much worse." She sighs, her mind evidently far away. I feel my eyes fill with I don't know what. All I know is: what I'd lost had never seemed so real until that moment.

Silently, my hand finds hers. Or perhaps the other way round. It doesn't seem that important, either way.

Katniss and I are exactly alike since the quarter quell, in the kind of way we haven't been since she first left.

We're both falling apart at the seams.

I jump down from the helicopter, sighing to myself as my communicuff begins to bleep.

I am startled to see a helicopter- much more primitive than the ones 13 usually uses, crashed in front of the building.

"What's happened?" I ask a passer by, who I recognise from command.

He shrugs helplessly. "Some sort of crash. The helicopter's from 4, radio lines are still down. Looks like they decided to take it into their own hands."

"Who was in there?" I ask, hoping for Finnick's sake it's not someone he knows. Then again, he never seems to be conscious for more than a second and nothing you tell him actually seems to get past his skull.

"Just the driver and some girl in the passenger seat."

I let him leave, since he's obviously very busy, and edge around the doctors to get a view of the two people on the ground, just in case I recognise someone.

The girl is lying on a stretcher, unconscious and peaceful looking, blood pouring from a wound in her head into the gold coloured hair scattered about her.

My heart falters, then begins to race so fast I cannot distinguish one beat from the next.

"Madge?" I ask uncertainly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Again, I don't own the hunger games. It saddens me too...  
****I've wrote this chapter in 3/4 an hour. I am amazed!  
I hope you like it! **

Madge.

I open my eyes to find myself in a strange sort of room. For one, it's painted pure white. For a second, there's a strange beeping noise which is doing odd things to my ears. For a third, I'm completely dizzy and disoriented, my eyes determined not to focus.

For a second, I think perhaps I am in heaven. Then my brain catches up, and I realise that this can't be heaven, and I can't be dead.

For one, I am most definitely breathing. My heartbeat is strong in my ears, increasing my disorientation, and the pain of my injuries is only too vivid. For a second, I am in a hospital. I know this because of the iron railings of the bed I am in, the curtain drawn around the bed opposite, and the needle stuck in my arm.  
I look away, because I can't stand needles. It's a deep-rooted fear, which began with my mother. She was so full of drugs, drugs trying to convince her that her life was worth living, that she often didn't even know who I was.

That's when I see him. He's hunched over in the hard backed chair next to my bed, his head resting in his hands, his knee beating impulsively against the highly polished floor in a steady rhythm. It's almost as if he's counting how many times he can before I wake up.

"Nice of you to drop in." I half say, half groan. His head snaps up from his knees, his eyes filled with a wild panic I am unaccustomed to seeing there.

I'd forgotten, in my grief and desperation, the details of Gale's appearance. Forgotten the exact contours of his cheek bones, the shape and length of his nose, the precise shape of his eyes, the depth there and the amazing sharp grey colour, the undertone to his skin colour...

I'd forgotten too the way his eyebrows furrowed together, the curve of his eyelashes against his eyelids, the way his hair fell in the way only Gale's ever could, the blackness that reminded me of coal and midnight skies, the breath of his shoulders and the fullness of his lips...

How much more could I have forgotten?

My brain was a scrambled mess; only one thought could process at any one time. Already I could feel a headache building there. I didn't know what to think, what to do, how to act. There were so many questions I so badly needed answered. I had missed him more than I thought was humanly possible, and the joy I felt at discovering his survival would always overshadow any resentment I felt that he had left me, but still it was there...

I needed to know why. It seemed so important, the most pressing question at that moment. I couldn't lie here in silence; I couldn't pretend everything was alright, like nothing had even happened.

Why had he saved so many and yet not come back for me?

There had to be a cause. I was certain of it. Gale, who had always been so selfless and so stupidly brave and so rash, had to have a reason for leaving me behind. He just had to.

So why was I so afraid to ask?

I opened my mouth, and closed it again. He watched me grapple for words, looking just as lost as I was. That was the moment I realised that, were there a reason, he wasn't about to tell it to me. And I was too fearful of what I might hear to press him much further than my mere presence already had.

So instead I just threw him another glance and smiled. "So, what have I missed?"

"While you were being shot you mean?" Gale demanded, his tone hard.

I shrugged, but stopped immediately as the pain shot through my face. "Gale, I- I'm sorry. What do you want me to say?"  
"Where you've been for starters!" He snapped.

"Why are you yelling at me? I'm not the one who left you to fight the bombs on your own!" The words slip from me before I can help myself. I didn't mean to say it, and I definitely didn't mean it to sound so accusatory. But quite a large part of me was glad to have got it out in the open so soon, glad I had said it before the courage had slipped away, and I spent the rest of my life wondering what would have happened if I had of had the guts to say what was on my mind.

Gale's face crumpled.

"No. You didn't." He whispered, his tone tortured, his breathtaking eyes filled with an awful pain I couldn't bear to see. Whatever he'd done, he didn't deserve that, that expression on his face which told me the painful experience he relived every day. Besides, it was no crime to try and save yourself.

I had done the same, without thinking or even realising what I was doing. I had saved myself without concious thought.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-" I began.

"No. You were right." He said blandly.

"No! I wasn't! Gale, the entire district was on fire! Our friends were dying right before our eyes, and we all knew it was either stay and become a human torch or run and save yourself. Besides, what you did was remarkable. I'm still not exactly clear on whom you saved, but from what they said in 4, it was a lot of innocent lives. So you didn't save me? I'm here aren't I? I saved myself!"

He looks up from his hands.

"So what you're saying is, I'm forgiven?" He was half laughing, not even bothering to hide the irony in his tone.

I smiled. "There was nothing to forgive."  
He grinned. "Yes there was. You're Madge-Methoding me."

I shook my head, but stopped immediately. It seemed there wasn't anything I could do that wasn't going to make me feel as if the world had been seized by a giant hand and shaken like a snow globe.

"Not you, Gale. You Madge-Method yourself all on your own."

He grinned. "That's true. So what exactly have you been doing all this time? How did you get away?"

I tried to make out a coherent thought through the clouded fog of my mind. The present was in such sharp reality, but on the details of what had been happened up to even an hour ago, I was a lot more hazy.

"I was in the victor's village when the bombs came, because I'd just witnessed what I thought was Katniss's death on the screen, and I'd promised her a while back that I'd look after Prim if ever the Capitol really did exterminate her. I'd just realised no one was in when I heard something strange. I ran to the window, and spotted the Capitol's planes. I didn't know what was going on, I just knew I needed to escape. I ran for the door, but I lost my footing on the stairs in my hurry, and as I fell I hit my head on the railing. When I woke up, it was pitch black. I was completely bewildered, I couldn't remember what had happened or where I was, when I heard voices. A woman screamed, and a shot rang out. I couldn't make sense of anything. I just knew that I needed to hide. I didn't have much time. I crawled into Prim's wardrobe, and tried my best to hold my breath. I heard them come in, and ransack the entire room searching for survivors. I was so sure I was going to be found at any moment. I can't remember exactly how it happened, or how much time I was in the wardrobe. After a while, there hadn't been any noise for a while. I looked through the window, and found that the entire landscape was covered in small fires. It was raining ash and debris, and sparks were flying from the various fires, smoke billowing out across the houses." I had to stop for a moment here. I could see it all happening so clearly, almost as if I was there all over again.

"It was all completely obliterated." I whisper, my voice faltering, allowing for the massive lump in my throat and the shivers running up my spine.

"I know." He whispered, tears in his eyes for the first time since I had known him.

"Gone." I whisper. "Completely gone."

I allow a small pause for a moment to collect myself. Gale's eyes are trained on my face, willing me to continue.

"I didn't know what to do. For ages, I just watched. I was convinced you were dead, and for several hours I couldn't see the point in moving. I couldn't see the point in living at all. By the time I'd collected myself, it was light again, and I couldn't risk leaving the Victor's village for fear of being found. So I waited out the day in the wardrobe. The peace keepers didn't return, and I decided it was safe to move. I was completely faint with hunger, and by the time I reached the pantry I wasn't thinking. I ate almost half the food in there in about ten minutes flat, if that. I grabbed a backpack from nearby and scavenged as much as I could hold. I then headed for the meadow, but something made me stop. I had to search the district, to make sure there were no survivors."

I gulped. I didn't want to tell Gale about the feeling that had welled up inside me when I found his house, fire still flickering feebly inside. The way I had called out his name, with my voice becoming increasingly hoarse, long after I realised there was no one there.

"There weren't." I whispered. "So I left. I had to be really careful to avoid the fires. I did as best as I could, but I did get quite badly burnt, and by the time I reached the meadow again I was covered in ash and blood and burns. I found the fence ripped down, and that was when I knew I had only one hope of survival. I went into the woods, and found my poisonous darts. I was still suffering from concussion, and the various wounds slowed me down quite a bit, but I survived. I was wandering aimlessly, walking with purpose but not having any idea where I was going. When I reached 4, I had pretty much given up the will to live."

Gale's eyes are wide. He's watching me tell the story, completely enraptured. I can't take my eyes off him, either. This is everything I've been longing for in all these months.

"I was so stupid. I thought you were dead, thought Katniss was, thought everyone I knew and loved was. I told them not to tell me anything about the rebellion, tuned them all out completely, and tried to shut out the entire world. I was consumed by hatred, spent every day silently plotting my revenge."  
"What happened?" He breathed. I've never seen him like this before, never spoken to him where he didn't sound bitter and sarcastic, even when he was really opening up to me. It seems me turning up, relatively alive and completely and utterly alive, has revealed vulnerability in him that no one has ever witnessed.

"It was my birthday, and Finnick's grandmother asked me if I wanted to go to thirteen to see Katniss. I had been so wrapped up in my own grief that I hadn't even realised she was alive. She told me that Katniss was alive, that Finnick and you were, and that was all the incentive I needed to get into that helicopter to get to thirteen. I was travelling over one when I was shot."

"Wow." Was all Gale could whisper.

"So what about you? Any amazing escape adventures to tell me about?" I asked, and if I could have moved my facial muscles I would have grinned. Gale smiles.

"I got everyone I could into the meadow. There were bombs dropping everywhere, and I knew it was only a matter of time before we were spotted. I formed a team to bring down the fence, and we walked into the forest. I didn't have many weapons at my disposal, and not many able bodied people either. I managed to keep everyone alive for three days, until we were rescued by a helicopter from 13."

I feel contented, and my head falls back on my pillow.

Unexpectedly, anger flares in me. The mood swings, probably drug induced, were scaring me by this point. I couldn't explain why or where it came from, I only knew I needed answers.

"You didn't answer my question." I said.

"What?" Gale asks, in a would be blank voice. He knows what I'm talking about. My eyes flicker over to meet his.  
"Gale, why didn't you come back for me? I looked for you! I spent an hour searching for you! I was terrified! I was so close to being killed!" I am becoming more and more frantic, my tone verging on hysterical, higher and higher pitched. Tears sting my eyes. "I risked my life to go back! Did you even bother to go back for me? Do you even care?"

His eyes were just as frantic as my own. "Madge! No! Don't say that!"  
As my voice becomes more high pitched, his become louder. The machines are going mad, and I can't stem my panic. A doctor rushes in.

"Soldier Hawthorne, I'm going to have to ask you to leave now."

"NO!" We both cry. I'm sobbing now, ignoring the pain as I reach out and grab Gale's hand in a vice like grip.

The begging mingles with the commands until you can't distinguish one voice from another.

"Please, I'll calm down-"

"Stop, you don't understand-"

"Soldier Hawthorne, you really are upsetting her!"

Another doctor appears from nowhere, a needle in hand. She smiles. "Hold still, now, Madge. This won't hurt a bit."

"No! Please!" I beg, but it's no use. The needle is plunged into my arm, and my brain fogs over. I couldn't tell you who I was or what I was doing. Only that it was so warm, and comfortable, and that I couldn't keep my eyes open...

For the second time that day, I lost consciousness.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: The song is It's Time by Imagine Dragons. My dad played it in the car last night and I thought of this story. When I imagined Madge playing it, however, I imagined it a lot slower, ifyou're familiar with the song :)**

**I don't own the hunger games, unfortunatly. **

Gale.

I run blindly, not knowing where I'm going. Her cries as they plunged the needle into her arm is something that I am certain will haunt me forever, as was the look on her face when she demanded an answer.

An answer I couldn't give.

My brain couldn't process what had just happened. One moment, she'd been angry (as she should be) another, we'd been getting along like nothing had even happened, the next she was begging for an answer again.

I gasp as the pain of it all cuts through me like a knife. I distract myself with the story she told, of the miracle of her survival, but truth is the blame in her eyes won't leave me alone.

Give her time, I tell myself. Don't go back just yet. Just give her time to make sense of what's happened on her own.

Madge was the person, above all, I would have like to lie to. I would have liked to been viewed as a hero by. That was precisely why I had to tell her the truth.

But not yet. I mean, it'd definitely do more harm than good at the moment, right? She was confused enough as it was. Better give her time... A week at least. Or perhaps even a month. A month was enough time for her to figure everything out, wasn't it? Maybe I did need a little longer, though... Just to make sure. I mean, I didn't want to overwhelm her.

Gale Hawthorne, you chicken! A voice buried deep in the recesses of my mind spoke up. Do it now or you'll regret it later.

I ignored it. I was trying to do the right thing by Madge here.

Wasn't I?

It was only when my cominicuff began to beep again, more urgently than I'd ever heard it, that I remembered I really needed to get to command.

I grabbed Katniss, who was heading to dinner, and took her to the room both of us secretly dreaded, both for our different reasons.

They are all gathered around the TV screen at the far end of the room. My heart sinks, because since when has that ever meant good news? I'm praying it's just another Capitol/Rebel propaganda thing, but honestly, who knows?

I glance at Katniss. She's skulking in the doorway, trying not to be noticed.

I notice Peeta in the same instant she does. I stare.

Two remarkable occurances, both of which I thought impossible, have happened in one day. Or maybe it's just national-prove-Gale-Hawfhorne-wrong-day, and all of Panem just conveniently forgot to tell me. Maybe President Snow is in his devil-cavern somewhere, laughing his head off.

I was certain Madge was dead, and she turned up alive and relatively well (So what if she had been shot? Her life was a blessing beyond anything I'd ever imagined.)

I had believed Peeta was suffering a fate worse than death, and yet here he was (On the TV screen, anyways), healthy beyond belief and quite contented looking.

I didn't take in a word of the on screen interview. I was watching Katniss, smiling at the wonderment in her face, the relief and happiness. I smiled myself then, knowing how happy this must be making her. She had been through so much. She deserved this much.

My mind strays to Madge. Now the shock of seeing her again has worn off a little, now I'm away from that god awful hospital and the even more awful hurt expression on her face, I can't seem to suppress my happiness.

It's the kind of happiness that CAN'T be suppressed, even if you did happen to want to. The kind that makes you want to burst with it, that makes your heart expand until you feel you can't hold it, that makes you seem to glow until you scarcely feel human anymore. It was indescribable. Her hurt and pain, her demanding answers, all was virtually nothing compared to the joy of her survival. Selfish as it was.

Really, really selfish as it was...

Which is why I don't comprehend the noises of outrage issuing from the people around me, until I see Katniss frozen against the screen, and my brain processes the words Peeta just said.

Ceasefire! There cannot be a ceasefire...

The image, the image which is always so perfectly branded on my brain, surfaces now. The image of district 12, of my home, of everything I knew in the world, going up in flames.

I recall a song, a song Madge plays on piano sometimes. Just a snippet. I can see her, running her fingers across the keys as I sat beside her, smiling that smile only music could bring.

It's a beautifully haunting melody, and even before the bombing gave me goosebumps every time I heard it.

_So this is what you meant when you said that you were spent?_

_And now it's time to build from the bottom of the pit right to the top,_

_Don't hold back_

_Packing my bags and giving the academy a rain check_

_I don't ever want to let you down_

_I don't ever want to leave this town_

_'Cause after all_

_This city never sleeps at night..._

_It's time to begin, isn't it?_

_I get a little bit bigger, but then,_

_I'll admit, I'm just the same as I was_

_Now don't you understand_

_That I'm never changing who I am?_

_So this is where you fell, and I am left to sell_

_the path that heaven runs through miles of clouded hell,_

_right to the top_

_Don't look back_

_Turning to rags and give the commodities a rain check_

_I don't ever want to let you down_

_I don't ever want to leave this town_

_'Cause after all_

_This city never sleeps at night..._

_It's time to begin, isn't it?_

_I get a little bit bigger, but then,_

_I'll admit, I'm just the same as I was_

_Now don't you understand_

_That I'm never changing who I am?_

_It's time to begin, isn't it?_

_I get a little bit bigger, but then,_

_I'll admit, I'm just the same as I was_

_Now don't you understand_

_That I'm never changing who I am?_

_This road never looked so lonely,_

_This house doesn't burn down slowly,_

_to ashes, to ashes..._

Here my memory stopped, and my blood seemed to boil, as if I too was on fire... As if it were all burning, a path of fire which lead directly to my soul.

Ceasefire? Over my dead body!

The pictures seem to come quicker now, everything so much clearer than it has been in a long time. Katniss, stood on the podium, waiting for the timer to run out and the fight for her life to begin. Vick, Rory and Posy, whey faced on trembling legs, stomachs rumbling conspicuously as they stare at their empty plates. Prim, shaking from head to foot as she walked to take her place in the games. Madge, her blue eyes tortured as she watched her best and virtually only friend taking the place of the sister who, it turned out, she really did love more than life itself.

The booming of a canon, echoing over and over in my head, children I didn't know dying on the screen before my eyes.

There couldn't be a ceasefire. 'Total annihilation of the human race' as Peeta put it, was better than that. Anything was better than that.

If we gave up now, if we let them win, if we left history to repeat itself… Everything would go back to the way it was. The starvation, the death toll, the pointless wars, the desperation of repressed and mistreated people, the cries of babies dying from malnutrition, the screaming of a mother torn from her child so soon after they'd met, the haunted looks in the father's eye... All of it would continue.

The games would continue, worse than ever before. The cannon would keep on booming out the last blast of a tributes life.

I would carry on being Gale Hawthorne, the boy so angry, it was cutting him up bit by bit.

I couldn't let that happen.

As all this went through my mind, I was watching Katniss. She was frozen, hand pressed against the screen, the look in her eyes not at all mirroring the outrage and disgust of those around me.

Perhaps she wasn't thinking. Perhaps she was just too relieved that he was alive. Perhaps she hadn't even registered his words at all... All I knew was that this girl before me wasn't even close to the girl I knew.

"Traitor." Hissed Boggs.

He was right. Peeta had betrayed the rebels. But what for?

It was obvious what he was doing, because it was exactly what I would have done had l been in his place, had it been Madge or Katniss's life on the line, had it been anyone I loved...

He was establishing a chance for her to live, in the event of yet another Capitol win.

It was risky, and it wouldn't work. No one would believe the story of a confused pregnant girl when faced with Katniss. Faced with the way fire burned in her eyes as she contemplated the horrors of what the Capitol was doing to her, what the Capitol was doing to me, to him, to the whole of Panem.

Snow desired nothing but her death, and nothing Peeta said, no deal he struck, was going to get in the way of achieving that goal.

The idea made me feel physically sick. As if I hadn't already known, as if the thought hadn't cropped up a thousand times in my nightmares.

She turned slowly, as if in a dream. Her eyes still have a glazed look. She walks to the door slowly, but purposefully, and no one can mistake her intention. Evasion is sort of Katniss's specialty now.

"I haven't finished with you, Soldier Everdeen." Coin says, voice cold and calculating, leaving no one in any doubt what the next avenue of conversation will be.

Boggs grabs her arm. It's a really, really bad move. Eyes narrowed, she jerks her arm away defensively, her mind still half in the games. I see it every time I look at her, every time anyone comes too close, every time someone so much as looks at her. Dead or alive, once you enter the arena, you never leave. Not really. There may be much of Katniss I could never even hope to understand, but I do understand that much.

Feet hitting the floor hard, she sprints down the corridor. They make to go after her, and without even thinking, without even stopping for a heartbeat, I step in front of the door.

Coin glares, and I glare back. I've already proven that I'm loyal to the rebels, loyal to their cause, loyal to her. But nothing comes before my loyalty to the people I love. To Madge, to Posy, Vick and Rory, to my mum, to Prim, and to Katniss.

"Soldier Hawthorne, this is your last warning." Boggs says. "Get out of the way."

I don't answer, just continue to stand in the doorway. He hesitates for the fraction of a heartbeat, Coin giving him a discreet nod, before punching me squarely in the nose.

I taste the rusty, bitter liquid before it begins to flow in a steady stream out of my nose. It aches, and almost as a reflex reaction, I punch him back.

He clutches his jaw, rubbing where my fist made contact, with an extremely odd, out of place half smile playing at his lips.

I am forced into a chair. Coin's mouth is set in a firm line. Her steely grey, cold eyes flash as she holds out her hand.

"Communicuff." She demands. I slip it off my wrist and almost throw it at her, fighting the insane urge to laugh. I feel so much like a misbehaving school boy it is unreal. It's just like when I punched Roddy Simpson (a snobby uptowner who'd mocked me and a friend) and the teacher had taken away my lunch. I'd been furious then, as I should have been. Lunch was hard to come by.

Now, however, when all was at stake was an illgotten wristwatch which I felt guilty wearing anyways, the situation was comical in the extremes.

"Gale Hawthorne, for attempted sabotage of an important mission, we are hereby stripping you of your communicuff and all privileges which accompany it. You will henceforth be known only as an ordinary soldier, and addressed thus."

I fight to keep the smile off my face. It was all so ridiculous, all so over exaggerated and theatrical...

"Fine. Now can I go?"

By dinner, I am riding high.

Katniss agreed to be the mockingjay! Madge is alive and Katniss agreed to be the mockingjay! My two greatest wishes, acknowledged or otherwise, all in one day.

I enter our apartment in high spirits, throwing myself onto my bed, which creaks but thankfully doesn't collapse. Heaven knows what Coin would do if I had to ask for a new bed.

Especially after the latest mockingjay fiasco.

I don't notice Rory at first. He's sprawled across his and Posy's bed, staring at the ceiling, not moving or making a single sound.

"You gonna talk or are you just going to lie there?" I ask. He turns to look at me.

I swing my legs around over the edge of the bed, propping my head up on my elbows.

"Hello to you too." He grins.

I grin back, and muss his hair. He's grown in the past couple weeks. Tall for his age, with our fathers good looks and our mothers remarkable eyes. You can just tell he's going to be a heartbreaker.

The mass of dark hair, strong build, mischievous smile and olive toned skin... All so achingly familiar, it makes me feel as if I am looking in a mirror which transports you about 5 years backwards.

"Spit it out then. There's obviously something going on!" I say.

"It's- well it's about Prim."

I start to laugh, but the hurt expression on his face stops me, and I compose my face into a sympathetic grimace.

"Aah. Girl trouble." He is 13, after all. And Prim's best friend. I understand that. It was me, once upon a time. Or at least, I thought it was.

To my surprise, Rory blushes. "Not like that, you idiot!" He snaps, a little too defensively. "Well- possibly- but, no. I meant I'm worried about her. She's working double shifts at the hospital, juggling school work and fretting over Katniss almost all the time. She isn't eating properly everyday, either. She just plays with her food a lot of the time. Something she said just now- it made me wonder."

"Made you wonder what?" I ask. I'd had barely any contact with Prim since we arrived in 13, and I hadn't realised she was even working in the hospital, yet alone that she was trying to manage double shifts. She was only 13, after all.

"Whether she's coping."

"Why? I mean, what exactly did she say?"

"Something about nightmares, and about not being able to survive without Katniss, and about her mother. I'm pretty sure she mentioned distance between her and Katniss, too. But- she just seems so tired, Gale!" He grapples for words for a moment, desperation in his voice, beseeching me to understand… to grasp the full magnitude of his problem.

I do. More than he knows.

"Rory, Prim's strong. And so is Katniss. They'll figure things out. Katniss would never let distance grow between them. Everything she went through, everything she endured, it was all for Prim. If Prim's trying to do too much, you need to talk to her. And if she's having nightmares, you need to talk to Katniss."

Rory nods and looks at me. "You know, for someone who spends most of his time being stupid, your actually pretty smart."

I laugh, and punch him lightly. "And for someone who spends all his time pretending to be really macho, you're actually pretty feminine."

Rory laughs.

"But seriously, Rory. I know I haven't had much time for you since we came to 13, but I'll always be here, if you need me. If there's anyone you need me to beat up or threaten with my cominicuff, which, actually, was taken off me today, I'm right here. You can tell me anything. I don't want any distance between us, either. Besides, I still owe you those hunting lessons, remember?"

"Now who's being all feminine?" He laughs. He hesitates, before adding. "I love you, Gale."

I grin to myself, returning to staring at the ceiling. "Love you too, squirt."


	6. Chapter 6

**The laptop crashed last night and guess who forgot to save her work? So this has been written twice, and I'm hoping that it's been worth it! Maybe even worth a review?**

**Oh and again, none of the beliefs expressed in this story reflect my own. I just think atheism and Panem fit quite well together...**

**I don't own the hunger games! **

Madge.

_His gaze flickers up to meet mine from across the meadow. His eyes lack the usual blankness and anger he works so hard to maintain, filled instead with questions, a lopsided smile on his face which makes my stomach flip._

_Curse you, Gale Hawthorne!_

_I'm not usually like this. Never so pathetic, never a girl who needs a boyfriend, who has crushes... Katniss and I always steered out of the shallow and quite frankly dull waters of usual teenage girls. Of dresses and parties and boys. We both hated it all, it was one of the few things we actually had in common._

_But something about Gale made me question everything I thought I knew, everything I thought I was... I found myself doing my hair down instead of flinging it back in the usual ponytail and taking an interest when the usual gossiping girls I'd known my whole life began to talk about boys. It was a change I hated to see in myself, but I didn't seem to be able to help myself..._

_I wasn't going to change, though. No boy was worth that. Not even a boy with enchanting grey eyes, flawless olive toned skin and effortlessly perfect dark hair..._

_Curse you, Gale Hawthorne!_

_"You coming or not?" He asks, his voice breaking through my reverie as he yanks the wire fence a little higher. It is both an invitation and a challenge..._

_You bet I am._

_I kick off my shoes and try to match his almost silent footsteps as he walks across the bed of autumn leaves._

_It__** is**__ beautiful here, everything I imagined it to be and more. The way the weak autumn sunlight filters through the leaves, the rust coloured carpet pathing the way, the vibrant colours bursting into life everywhere I look..._

_The noise, too, is extraordinary. I can hear the wind as it races through the leaves, the happy twittering of birds oblivious to the harsh world they live in out here in the serenity of their forest home, the trickling of a stream nearby..._

_I suck in a deep lungful of air not contaminated by soot or gas or whatever other crazy stuff there is in the air surrounding our district, and sigh contentedly._

_I am not afraid, as I feared I might be. I am mesmerised._

_"So, first time in the woods, huh?" Gale teases. I shove him playfully into the tree nearby, and he pretends to fall, stumbling on the roots and startling a squirrel gathering nuts._

_"Dammit!" Gale curses as the poor creature makes their escape. We both watch it scurry away, listening in wonderment to the complete and utter tranquillity of the surrounding area..._

_"Never mind. I want to know where I can find those strawberries!"_

_"As if I'd tell you that!" Gale scoffs, a devilish smile lighting his face. Being here transforms every aspect of him. He is no longer angry. His eyes are no longer narrowed slits as he tries to keep a blank expression firmly fixed to his face, his lips no longer a tight line as he tries to keep the tirade he's been holding in for Lord knows how long from bursting from his lips. "I'd be out of business!"_

_"You'd lose at least three quarters of your profits!" I laugh._

_"At least." He replies solemnly, laughter lighting his eyes._

_"My dad would save so much on strawberries, he'd be able to buy a whole new other district. I'd have to move to 4 or something, and I wouldn't have anyone to sneak into the woods with!" Gale is standing really close, and I keep talking to try and disguise the way my heart is beating so fast and loud in my ears it's a wonder he hasn't heard it already and commented on how I'm most probably scaring away all the local wildlife._

_"We couldn't have that, could we now?" He says, and his lips crush down on mine._

_I dropped the issue of the strawberries after that._

The memory blurs into another.

_My hands are clenched in my lap, head bowed as if in prayer, but the truth is I gave up on God a long time ago. If a God existed, if he were so good and so pure, he'd have destroyed this screwed up planet a while back. The human race weren't saving, so far as I was concerned._

_If he did exist, he'd turned his back on us a long time ago._

_"Madge, there's someone here to see you." My father appears in the doorway, a tall figure behind him. Gale carries a bowl of strawberries in his strong hands, worry clouding his grey eyes._

_Maybe there was a god after all._

_"Call me if there's any change. I'll be in my office if you need me." My dad said as he backed out, an inexplicable smile crossing his lips, contrasting with the worry knitting his brow and the pain that spoke volumes bright in his eyes._

_"How is she?" Asks Gale, setting the strawberries on a table in the corner and pulling up a chair beside me. To my intense humiliation, tears begin to burn in my eyes._

_"I don't know. They won't tell me anything. Gale I'm-" I gulped. "I'm so afraid."_

_It was a hoarse whisper as my voice deserted me. Before I knew what was happening, his arms encircled me. Strong, reliable. He smelt of the woods. Lord knows what time he'd had to get up to get those strawberries._

_With us, everything seemed to revolve around the strawberries._

_I sobbed unashamedly into his chest, because what was the point in pretending at this point? My mothers life hung in the balance, Katniss was in the middle of the games, and I __**was **__afraid. More so than I cared to admit._

_Gale didn't try to make me quiet, or speak false words of comfort. Perhaps because he had no words, or perhaps because he knew empty words were the last thing on earth I needed right then. Either way I was grateful._

_He just held me._

_In the end, I ran out of tears._

_"Maysilee?" My mothers voice was weak. It took me a moment to realise she wasn't having another of her hallucinations. That she was talking to me._

_"No, mum, it's me. It's me, Madge."_

_"Maysilee?" My mother repeated. I threw a helpless glance at Gale, who squeezed my hand and nodded._

_"Yes, Meredith. It's me. Maysilee."_

_"I've missed you May." She whispered, smiling as tears fell into her hair._

_"I've missed you too." I said, smoothing out her hair._

_"It's not the same, in the district. It seemed better, for a while, you know. My daughter tells me stories, May. She says it's beautiful. She says everyone smiles now, that the games are over. That the streets are filled with laughter. She reminds me so much of you. The way she talks, her determination, her fiery spirit, the way she laughs. She looks like you, too. Sometimes I wish she were a little less like you." She smiles, and her eyes look as if she's on another planet. The way she's talking, she may as well be. Tears begin to flow freely down my cheeks again, and I don't bother wiping them off._

_"There isn't a single day I don't think of you, you know. Isn't a single day I don't whisper your name before I go to sleep. Don't visit you in my dreams. Don't revisit your games." She's still smiling, but I'm crying in earnest now. Part of me wants nothing more than for her to stop, yet another part wants her to go on. "You had a bird. Do you remember, May?"_

_"I remember." I choke out._

_"What was it you called him?"_

_"Err-"_

_"Oh that's it. Ernie. I gave him to Rosemary. She married an Everdeen, can you believe it? When Ernie died, it was like you had died all over again. Rose couldn't stop crying. I gave Madge your pin, for her 16th. I thought you'd have liked her to have it. She wore it everywhere, until Rose's daughter was picked for the games. She has it now. I thought you'd probably like that too, though not the part about the games. I thought there were no games, until David let something slip."_

_There's another pause, before she looks at me, her eyes full of tears. Her hand reaches out, floundering in thin air until she finds my hand._

_"I'm so afraid, May. What'll happen, if I die? Who'll look after Madge? And David? What'll happen to them both? And what'll happen to me?"_

_"It'll be alright." I choke out. "It'll be alright. You'll be with me, like you are now. There's plenty of space, so you can grow flowers, and they'll be mockingjays who sing all the time. We can live in a house together, a little cottage by the sea, like the one we visited in four when we were 13. You always said you wanted to live in one of those, remember? Oh and the sky, Meredith. Wait until you see the sky! It's so blue, so beautifully blue, like nothing you could ever see in 12. There's no coal dust to coat your shoes or dresses or get in _your hair. _The food is amazing, like in the Capitol. And you can dance all day! You always did love to dance!"_

_"But I love Madge!" She wailed._

_"I know, darling. Believe me I know. But Madge can look after herself. She's a grown girl now. She's got amazing friends, and her father, who'd do anything for her. And she will always, always love you. She will never forget you, Meredith. Just like you never forgot me."_

_"Will there be pianos?" My mother asks. She's absorbing every word I'm saying, eyes trained on mine._

_"More pianos than you could play in a million lifetimes." I answer, stroking her cheek._

_"It sounds wonderful. Madge will love it there." She whispered._

_"Madge won't be able to come, darling. Not just yet."_

_"But- but then I'll be alone, May! I can't be alone!"_

_"Of course you won't be alone! You'll have me, and you'll have mama and papa. We've never, ever stopped loving you, Meredith, just like you've never stopped loving us. And we've been waiting a lifetime to see you again. And we will continue to wait, until you are ready to come back to us."_

_Her eyes filled with tears. "Do I have to come now? Do I have to leave my Madge now?"_

_"Of course you don't." I whispered. This grief went beyond tears, and even if I had of wanted to, I had nothing left to give. "Only when you are ready."_

_"I'm not ready to leave my Madge. Not yet. I love you, May."_

_"I love you too."_

_She fell asleep. I turned to Gale._

_"I'm staying with you." He said firmly, without further ado._

_"No! Someone needs to keep an eye on Katniss!"_

_"No one needs to keep an eye on Katniss for the moment, seeing as there isn't much we can do for her from here. Besides, she'll survive the night. She's tough, and in no immediate danger."_

_"Your family needs you, Gale!"_

_"No." He says, a finality in his tone making it clear that this isn't up for discussion. "They don't. The person who needs me tonight, Madge Undersee, is you."_

I wake up with a start. The first thing I see is the curtains, still firmly drawn around the bed opposite. Then I see a friendly looking nurse, who smiles (more like beams) at me as she checks the chart attached to my bed.

I sit bolt upright, because that is no nurse. Or rather it is, it's Prim in a nurses uniform, but I am completely thrown off by her appearance. I haven't seen her since the day of the fire, and she has changed virtually beyond recognition.

She has the same long blond pigtails, the same bright blue eyes, the same comfortingly familiar smile. But there is pain there, too. She is pale, and that familiar smile isn't as easy as it once was. Dark circles her eyes, and she seems somehow 5 times older than when I left her, as if she's matured to the point of adulthood in mere weeks.

She flings her arms around my neck, the childish gesture warming me through and through, the one thing which could never change. She's like the younger sister I always wanted.

Katniss is like a sister to me too, but in a different sort of way. We'd both do anything this earth asked of us in order to save Prim.

"I'm so happy you're alright!" She laughs, wiping tears from her eyes. She then straightens up, and pulls her clipboard to her chest, putting on her most professional air.

"So, Miss Undersee, how are you feeling this morning?"

I smile, then promptly dissolve into tears.

"Oh Prim!" I sob. "I've made a terrible mistake!"


	7. Chapter 7

**I love writing about Gale and his siblings. I think it brings out a whole other side to him which you don't really see. **

**I've spent the day with my younger cousin, who's the same age as Posy, so this chapter came quite easily. However, unlike Gale, I didn't start discussing war with her, though we did have one very philosophical conversation (Rach: "God made all this, didn't he Hannah?" "I think so, Rach, but some people don't believe in God. Do you think he/she exists?" "Yes, I do.") Like Posy, she has a very sophisticated range of vocabulary, and elder brothers, however luckily for her our day included painting rainbow coloured nails, playing 'mums and dads' at the park and icing mammoth cakes. Much more satisfying. Who knows, maybe Gale will be doing that next?**

**I do not own the hunger games :)**

Gale

I wait outside the classroom, tapping my foot impatiently as all the sombre mums from a mixture of 13 and 12 look at me inquisitively.

Vick and Rory are perfectly capable of walking from school to our apartment, but Posy, who has just started at the small school in 13 at age 5, simply cannot be allowed to wander around on her own. It's quite easy to get lost, and everyone is thirteen is too busy for a lost young girl, even one with her schedule tattooed on her arm.

Usually my mother would come to pick her up, but today she was busy in the kitchen helping Greasy Sae, and so the responsibility fell to me.

Even so, the look on her face when she comes out of the classroom makes me want to grin from ear to ear.

"Gale!" She cries, flinging her little arms around my waist. I pick her up.

"You're getting big, Rosy Posy." I tease, bouncing her on my hip. "Who did your hair?"

"Prim came in from the junior class to read to us, and she did it for me at break. She said it looked pretty!"

Posy was never told she was pretty by anyone but our mother. I think it was nice for her to have someone who acted like a big sister, and really nice for Prim to have a younger sister figure, when she was always the one being fussed over. Someone she could be responsible for and dote on.

"It does look very pretty." I tell her, pulling on the end of one of the braids. She giggles.

"You're just saying that because I'm your sister." She informs me solemnly. "You're a boy, and boys don't know anything." I laugh.

"We most certainly don't." I say, setting her on her feet. "Remember that in 10 years time, won't you? Now, you all ready for dinner?"

"Yes. I've been hungry all day. Do you think it might have a bit of flavour today?" She asks. She's quite a sophisticated talker for her age. I needed to remember not to expose her to some of Vick's vocabulary. Whilst she was talking to Prim all the time, it was fine. If she started absorbing some of Vick's terminology, we may have a problem.

"Probably not. I think it's stew again."

She wrinkled her nose. "Prim says the food is plain because there's a war on. Is there a war on, Gale?"

"Yes, Posy. There is." I answer, taking her hand as we make our way to dinner.

"Why?" She looks sweetly inquisitive. It's the sort of thing that my mother would faint to hear me and Posy discussing, but I can't lie to her. This war is going to shape her future. She deserves to know the truth.

Besides, the Capitol doesn't consider such things as childhood and innocence of great importance. I want her to be prepared and ready, even if she doesn't understand or appreciate what is going on.

"Do you remember what I told you about the games, when we first got here?" I ask, deliberating over each word and spelling it out slowly. She looks up at me, grey eyes wide.

"That they were wrong, and that President Snow was wrong. That Katniss was going to die before the people saved her. You said the games were murder, and that murder was always wrong."

"Yes, I did. Well, there's a war going on so we can stop the games, and all the other terrible things that are going on, like the bombs when we had to run."

Her eyes widen in fear, and her bottom lip trembles slightly as she opens her mouth to speak, then closes it again. "So that could happen again?"

I hesitate. But I've told her this much. There doesn't seem to be much point in lying at this point, just so she can sleep at night. Children grow up fast in Panem, after all. They have to.

"Yes." I answer. "But not if we win the war."

"Gale?" She asks.

"Yes?" I say.

"I think you're very brave. I want to grow up to be just like you."

It's my turn to tremble inside. In all honesty, I want Posy to grow up to be my exact opposite in every way possible. And I especially don't want her to grow up with the threat of the Capitol hanging over her head for the rest of her life.

"Thank you, Posy." I whisper, my heart melting. "But I think you should grow up to be just like you."

She deliberates for a moment, brow furrowed in concentration as she tries to make sense of what I am telling her.

"Can I be just like me and just like you?" She asks. "I want to be brave like you."

"I'm not brave, Posy." I say. Her indignant expression would be comical, if I didn't feel like I was about to cry. An image of Madge consumes me. "I am the very opposite of brave."

"No you're not! You saved 12, everybody says so. Mummy said she thought you were the bravest person alive. She said you were just like dad."

I feel so close to tears it is unreal. The image of Madge is replaced by the one of my father, as I last saw him, a smile firmly in place. Unaware he was about to say goodbye for the last time as he kissed my mother on the cheek, unaware he would never see his child as he pressed his hand against her stomach, unaware he was about to take his last glance of his little family as he hugged us all goodbye. Unaware he would soon be nothing but a memory, and my little gold medal of valour on the mantlepiece, no part of him found, no trace of his existence, entering the mines one more time, unaware it would be for the very last time, and that he would never have to work another day down there again.

I swing her hand, and decide to drop the issue of my bravery for a more pressing issue. If I want to live long enough to fire a single shot at the Capitol, that is.

"We can't tell mummy about what we've discussed, Posy, alright? She'd only get upset. It can be our secret, alright?"

"Alright." She answers.

We enter the dining hall, and locate the table containing my mother, Mrs Everdeen, Rory, Vick, Prim and Katniss. She runs up to them.

"Mummy! Mummy! Guess what Gale and I were talking about!"

My face hit the palm of my hand before my mother had even digested what Posy was saying.

I watch Prim closely through the meal, remembering what Rory said. It is true she has bags under her eyes, and is a little pale, but she seems happy enough and is eating like she's never even seen food before in her life. How one can wolf down this dreadful mix, I have no idea, but she's managing it.

"Oh, by the way, Madge has been asking for you." Prim says nonchalantly, catching me off guard. "She was pretty upset, says she made an awful mistake or something. I said you'd come by after dinner if you had time."

I feel heat flood my cheeks as everyone turns to look at me.

"Madge is alive? In district 13?" Cries my mother. "Heavens, Gale, you never said anything! Oh, it's so wonderful!"

Tears spark her eyes. My mother had been very taken with Madge from the first time she came to visit.

I shrugged, playing with my food. "She was unwell and confused. I didn't want to overwhelm her."

"You could have at least told me." She says. "Oh, it's so wonderful! But the poor girl, trying to adjust! She must be so bewildered, what with you not being able to save her and her parents... however did she survive?" I let my mother ramble.

"Did you know?" Mrs Everdeen asks Katniss. There are peculiar tears in her eye I can't explain, until I remember her friendship with Maysilee Donner and Meredith Undersee. I recall Madge's mother describing how similar she looked to Maysilee, and wonder if that was what Mrs Everdeen saw, every time she looked at her. Every time she caught sight of the mockingjay pin.

"No, I- I didn't." Katniss says. The look in her eye is confused, but it's also pure, exhilarated happiness. Madge is her friend, too. Her only friend, apart from me and the ones she acquired in the games, if they could ever be called thus. Her and Madge run deep. They were never just convenience friends, as I first thought. You only had to see the look in Madge's eye as she watched Katniss in the games, or the look in Katniss's when I told her Madge didn't make it, to know that.

"Madge is okay!" Posy is a little slow catching up. Though we all, me especially, talk to her as if she were much older, she is only 5 after all. "Gale, will you take me to go see her?"

"I don't think anyone else should visit Madge for now." Prim is quick to interject. "She's confused enough as it is. Gale's right, the last thing on earth we'd want to do is to overwhelm her. Gale and Madge have-" She looks down at her plate. "Issues to sort out."

She's right, yet again. Primrose Everdeen- child genius.

I am apprehensive as I reach the hospital wing. What am I going to say? She needs an answer. She deserves one. Yet I can't give her one.

She's sat up, writing on a piece of scrap paper. It's a wonder she managed to wrangle any at all. They're so strict with every single kind of resource here. Maybe they'll make her write on the walls next.

"Hi." I say, standing uncertainly by her bed.

"Hi." She replies. There's an awkward pause. Once I have ascertained she's not about to start asking questions again, I cast around for bland, easy going topics. Best take this slowly.

"What are you doing?" I ask, pointing to the paper.

"Coin visited me at lunchtime today. She wants me to compose some stuff for the TV bombardment. She's considering doing interviews of everyone, and it'd be good to have some background music, as well as some videos of me playing. She reckons it'll appeal to the rebels in outlying districts if we're presented doing things we love and coming across as approachable." She shrugs, looking at the sheet music.

"You looked really absorbed. It's nice." I say lamely. She smiles.

"I was composing something about the fire. It makes it easier, puts everything into perspective."

"I'm glad." I whisper.

"Listen, Gale, I know there's more to it than you're telling me. But I've decided- I'm okay with that. With all of it. You'd never pressurised me into talking before I was ready, and it was really unfair of me to attack you like that. I blame the drugs. So, you're not off the hook exactly. I still want answers. But only when you're ready."

"What if I'm not ready until I'm 70?"

She grins, and takes my hand.

"Then I'll wait."


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: I felt I needed to devote a chapter to Annie and Finnick's relationship, and to Madge's relationship with them both. I know I get a bit side tracked on describing people and things, it's a habit I developed a while back and don't seem to be able to break! But it was fun to write, and I can only hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! **

**I don't own the hunger games :(**

Madge

After Gale leaves, I close my eyes, trying to remember the feeling of his hand in mine. It isn't getting easier to watch him walk out of the door, away from me. In fact, it's getting worse. Every time he leaves, I feel like he might never come back.

I hold on to the promise he gave me, about seeing Katniss, Posy and the others soon. I hope it really is soon, but who knows how long it'll be before he deems me 'unconfused' enough to see everyone.

It's stupid, really, because what could set me back on the straight and narrow better than seeing the proof of the survival of my loved ones with my own eyes? I sigh, and turn my mind back to the piano, imagining my fingers stroking the keys.

A nurse comes in. My gaze snaps up, I realise it's not Prim, and turn back to my composition.

"You can leave tomorrow Madge. Coin will want to see you in command, I think." She says, trying to smile but not succeeding very well. I look up vaguely.

"Thanks." I say absently. She tries to smile again, visits the bed opposite for a couple seconds (making sure not to leave a chink in the curtains,) before leaving.

"Fancy seeing you here, Undersee." Says a weak voice.

A voice I would recognise anywhere, in this earth or the next.

"Finnick!" I cry, leaping off the hospital bed and running to his bedside.

"Hey there." He says, returning my one armed hug.

"Oh my goodness, how are you?"

He grimaces. "Not so good."

I note the tear tracks down his face, the paper white complexion, the haunted eyes.

It's such a cliché, haunted eyes. It's used a lot in Panem. Lot's of people are suffering.

But Finnick's eyes are the true definition of haunted eyes. He looks like he's replaying some dreadful nightmare over and over, a _haunting _past that he cannot escape.

And I understand without asking, without thinking, because up until 2 days ago, that was me.

"Annie." I say. He nods miserable, his head resting on my arm. I stroke his hair, trying to offer comfort whilst knowing there was only one person in the world who truly could abate this pain, even if she only could for a second before needing the support herself.

_I was four years old, accompanying my father on the district tour for the first time. We had half an hour before we had to be at the Justice Building, ready for three more hours of boredom._

_"Here we are." My father said, smiling at me._

_It was a tumbledown shack like building, the roof made of some sort of reed and the walls made of a rock I knew was found down by the beach we had visited earlier._

_I fell in love with it at once._

_My father rapped smartly on the door. It was promptly flung open by a broad shouldered man with sandy coloured hair, green eyes and olive toned skin._

_"David!" He cries, throwing his arms around my father's neck._

_"Christian!" My father laughs, patting him on the back._

_"Come in, come in! Dana is just cooking the salmon you will be eating this evening at the mayors house. My sons, of course. Finnick is the elder, Taylor is the crawler. And this must be Madge!"_

_"It is indeed!" My father beams, eager, as always, to show me off. I dip a small curtsy, as I have been taught._

_"Pleased to meet you, sir."_

_My father laughs. "There will be no need for that, Madge. We are among friends."_

_"Friends." I repeat slowly._

_5 minutes later Finnick and I were playing as if we had known each other our whole lives, in the trusting way only children of four and the mature age of 12 ever could._

...

_I was six years old, sat in my fathers office as he worked furiously. I was too young to fully comprehend what was going on, but we were watching the reapings. My father was adapting his speech, ready for one o clock, when he would be expected to participate in the task he hated most of all._

_The hunger games._

_"Daddy, can I go and play?" I asked._

_"Madge honey, I told you. Your mummy isn't feeling very well, so you have to stay here and play until it's time to go to the square."_

_"I don't like watching the games, daddy."_

_"I know, sweetheart. None of us do, but we don't have a choice."_

_My lip trembled. "Is it really all real, daddy? All of it?"_

_My dads desire to protect me coincided with his desire to always tell me the truth. And the truth was I would be quite poorly protected if I thought the hunger games really were just games._

_He was the mayor. He was my dad._

_"Yes, sweetheart." He couldn't add anything to that. If he voiced his opinion on the games, I would repeat them, and we'd all be walking corpses. "Madge, you have to promise me you'll never tell anyone you don't like the games. If you do, they'll take us away. Do you understand?"_

_I nodded, and turned back to dressing the doll I was playing with. I hesitated only when I caught sight of the muted television._

_"Daddy! Look! Finnick's on the television!"_

_My fathers pen fell to the floor, his mouth forming a perfect 'O'. It took a moment for me to catch up, before I began to cry._

_"Daddy, is Finnick going into the games?"_

...

_I was seven years old, and anxious to see Finnick again after his games. I watched through the window as we drew up in the pristine station at district four, so much prettier and cleaner than the one in 12._

_I leapt off the train, and Finnick was waiting._

_There was a young girl at his side, perhaps 12. She was talking amicably to Finnick, her green eyes flashing. He looked at his ease, grinning and laughing. When he caught sight of me, he smiled, and opened his arms._

_"Hey there squirt. You've grown." He grinned, hugging me. He put me down. "This is Annie, my friend. Annie, this is Madge."_

_"Hi." I say, suddenly shy._

_"Hi." She says, holding out a hand. "I've heard so much about you!"_

...

_I was 11, sat in the Cresta's kitchen after sneaking off while my father signed paper work._

_"You what?" I asked again._

_"I kissed Finnick." She repeats. She's sixteen, and much more mature than me. Experiencing things that I never could, and quite frankly, wouldn't want to. But the laughter that lights her eyes still hasn't changed._

_I wrinkle my nose. She laughs again. "You don't understand. But one day, Madge, you will."_

_"Whatever. That day can wait forever, so far as I'm concerned."_

_Annie and Mrs Cresta burst out laughing._

_It's the last time I will hear Annie laugh for a long time._

...

_It was my first reaping. The first time I had waited anxiously in line, the first time I had experienced the guilty relief that accompanied the pity as a young girl on trembling legs takes her place on the stage, the first time I had had to endure the torturous fear I would be picked._

_I knew the chances of my name coming out of that bowl were incredibly slim._

_It didn't stop me fearing that, that year, it might just be my turn. Because the fact of the matter was, for the first time, the games could be mine._

_The 70th hunger games could be my turn to be picked._

_I raced back to the house, trying to rid myself of the image of their faces as they were lead away, children I would most likely never see in school or around the district ever again._

_My father caught me at the door._

_"Madge, have you seen the reaping from four?" He asks anxiously._

_"No." I say, my heart beating in my mouth. "Why, should I have?"_

_The look on his face told me enough._

_"Oh my God." I said, sinking against the wall in the hallway._

_For once, he didn't tell me off for the profanity that had slipped unbidden from my lips._

...

_I was thirteen. Finnick was waiting for me at the station. But something was missing._

_That thing was his smile._

_I had seen the games. What had I expected? For her to spring back into her usual self, as Finnick had? For her face to break into a smile as she saw my face? For her to be all better?_

_I don't know what I had expected, but it wasn't what I experienced._

_Annie was hidden behind Finnick, the only part of her that was visible a wild escaped dark curl. The anticipation I had felt the whole train ride up dissolved into fear._

_I got off the train slowly, walking towards them with reluctant feet. I stood, knowing I shouldn't touch her, yet wanting nothing more than to fling my arms around her neck._

"_Hey." I whisper. Finnick gave me a flinty smile, which disappeared a nano second after it had made its presence known._

_"Annie?" I whisper. She peeks out from behind him, her green eyes full of fear. She hasn't left the games. Not yet, maybe not ever. She is the ghost of a girl long ago lost- a girl who had laughed like the entire world was one big joke, whose every living second was coloured with life and beauty._

_She wasn't Annie._

_"Annie, it's Madge." Finnick whispers. At the sound of his voice, she seems to relax. It's only a little, and it's barely perceptible, but it's enough for her to look at me._

_"You know me, Annie." I whisper, touching her arm. She flinches away, back behind Finnick. I glance at him helplessly, my eyes communicating all my apologies without words, yet there is hopelessness in his eyes to mirror mine._

_He knows what to do about as well as I do._

_"Annie." I whisper. "It's me. Madge. I would never, ever hurt you."_

_She peers out again, a little less fear in her eyes. I hold out my hand for her to take, and am struck by the sense of deja vu._

_"Don't be afraid." I whisper._

_And without another seconds hesitation, she takes it._

Though Annie did get better, she was never, ever the same. I took to watching her games, over and over, during the weeks leading up to the quarter quell, whilst helping to train Katniss, Haymitch and Peeta. Not to help. Just to remember.

In Panem, everyone seems fascinated by eyes. I know I am. Because eyes are the windows to the soul, and speak of every experience, everything you've suffered, every torment...

In Coin's I saw nothing but military precision. Her eyes gave nothing away. In Katniss's, I saw the experience that would never leave her, no matter how hard she tried to escape. In Gale's, I saw the anger that no person on this earth was big enough to contain. In Joanna's, I saw the dejected look of long ago given up hope. In Finnick's, I saw the torture that came from being incapable of helping someone you loved, of blaming yourself for something out of your control. In Annie's, I saw the terror, I saw the ghost of what once was, I saw the pain of somebody forever trapped in the past.

Now, in my own, I saw fear. And I saw hope.


	9. Chapter 9

**This chapter was extremely interesting to write...Reviews are more than welcome! **

**I don't own the hunger games. **

Gale.

I'm informed by Prim early the next morning that Madge is set to leave the hospital today. I'm in nuclear history first, and as I've missed the last three, really should go. It's something that is compulsory if you want to see the downfall of the Capitol.

I've never wanted anything so badly.

I sigh in impatience. "Just, tell her I'll come and find her as soon as I can, alright?"

Prim grins. "Alright. But I don't think it'll really be necessary."

"What do you know that the rest of us don't?" I ask.

She grins, but has no need to go on, as Katniss appears.

"Come to command with me?" She asks, after we've finished our breakfast or, in her case, her breakfast and half of mine besides.

I agree. I hated being in command, and I don't particularly want to be there now, but after the incident yesterday, they'll probably chuck me out anyway. Nuclear history is really not something I'd like to be present in. It's utterly boring, useless spiel, and I'm starting to think 13 is no better than the Capitol in the way it controls its citizens. In the way it brain washes its students.

Besides, after they chuck me out, I can go and find Madge.

Katniss seems different. She's a lot more assertive than I've seen her in a long time. She seems no longer to be just drifting, indecisive. She seems to have some kind of purpose. She has formulated some kind of plan last night, and it is guaranteed Coin will not like it.

I wonder in absent trepidation what it involves. I really hope it won't cause problems. My nose still stings from the punching it took last time I was in command.

As we enter the dreaded control room, all thought of the plan she seems so eager to put forward disappears.

Madge is sat at the table, looking deeply engaged with whatever discussion it is that is taking place between her and Coin. She's dressed in standard 13 clothes- a faded grey skirt with a white blouse that looks as if it's served several generations, with ragged, beaten up black pumps on her feet. Her hair falls in a pretty gold waterfall down her back.

She looks up, and a smile as big as Panem completely transforms her face. It takes me a moment to realise the smile isn't really for me.

Katniss and Madge collide in a hug which has their hair tangling in a mass of ebony and gold.

Katniss is the first to pull away. She smiles, one of the first genuine smiles I've seen her give in a while.

"It's so-"

"I know." Madge replies, relieving Katniss of the responsibility of finding a suitable word. Neither girl can stop grinning. "I've missed you, mockingjay."

"As to that, it's up for discussion." Katniss replies, grinning for the first time in weeks at the good natured ribbing.

"So let's get on and discuss it." Says Madge, claiming my hand as she pulls me into the seat next to her.

I don't miss the look on Katniss's face.

She's missing Peeta. Her situation isn't at all enviable. In her place, I'd be desperate at best. She's holding up well, all things considered.

I realised a while ago that Katniss loved Peeta, the way I loved Madge. It just needed time for her to realise it too, just like it had taken me time to realise I loved Madge.

"I'll be the mockingjay." Says Katniss, to much applause. Of course, no one is really surprised.

No one who saw Katniss in the arena, anyway. No one who saw the way she reacted every time the Capitol stooped to some new level of evil.

I exchange a glance with Madge. Why do I think there is an if somewhere in this?

Sure enough, Katniss holds up a hand.

"But-"

She goes on to read a list of conditions. The girl has power and, boy, is she going to use it.

The conditions are predictable. From the start, if Peeta was going to protect Katniss, Katniss was going to protect Peeta. Because she knows she loves him, deep down. Because she knows she'd take a bullet for him, quite literally, any day someone asked her to.

I then realise this isn't just about Peeta. It's also about her. She's going to right everything wrong in her life, every little thing she could find wrong with district 13.

She stares at the notepad she was writing on, the pen gripped so tight she's practically broken it.

Number one- Buttercup is granted without question. Well, maybe a little, from the people of 13. But its pathetic, and they need her. The time for reasoning is past. It's all or nothing.

Number two- that we be allowed to hunt, causes a tad more debate. Eventually, it is decided we be allowed to, so long as we stayed within a 1/4 mile radius, and give everything to the kitchens. We've been cooped up for so long, any above ground time will be a miracle beyond belief. At my request, it is expanded to include Madge too. Beetee will find her some poisonous darts, they promise.

"Gale." She says. I jump, thinking she's asking me, before I see her notebook and realise I've somehow become one of her conditions. "I'll need him with me to do this."

"With you how? Off camera? By your side at all times? Do you want him presented as your new lover?" Coin is quick on the uptake, calculating with her typical militarism, and lack of tact. She just wants to grasp what this will mean for the cause, and I can't blame her, but Katniss is still confused by what happened. Still trying to figure out who she is and who she is not. She needs dealing with a bit more delicately.

Katniss turns red, her mouth falling open in a perfect mixture of bewilderment and outrage. "What?" She half asks, half demands.

"No!" Says Madge, a little too loudly. I squeeze her hand.

"That isn't what she meant." I say, in part to calm Madge and Katniss down, in part to assure myself.

"I'll need Madge too. I don't mean-" Katniss is flustered, looking desperately at Madge, who quickly establishes there was no harm meant by her request, and interjects her own objections.

"You are not the Capitol!" She says to Coin, a coldness in her voice I had never heard before. "So stop acting like them. We-" She gestures herself, me and Katniss. "All appreciate certain truths must be manipulated as part of your campaign, that certain lies and propaganda must be put out there in order for you to win this war. But once you go down that road, there is no going back. So don't do it."

Coin seems to bristle at the thinly disguised threat in Madge's warning. "What exactly do you suggest we do, then, Miss Undersee?"

Madge bristles, too. She pushes away from the table so she's stood up. In her anger (it seems to be so easy to tip her over the edge now!) she is magnificent, towering above Coin. "Don't screw up honest relationships! Katniss is not just going to defect from Peeta! Whatever you idiots seem to think, none of it was an act! You're all blind if you think she doesn't love him, in whatever way she does, even if she isn't sure yet! And you're even more idiotic if you think that she'd hurt him so easily, hurt me! Gale and me are dating. Katniss , me and Gale are all really good friends. That was all she meant, and that is all there is to it! You are asking the world of her! You are asking her to fulfil the role Snow so unsuccessfully tried to get her to do! Did it never occur to you that she might be tired of being used? This girl has been through hell and back! This boy watched his entire world burn to the ground! Have some god damn respect!"

She sits down, still fuming. Katniss gives her a faint smile, and a squeeze of her hand, which she returns.

"Madge is right. Our greatest appeal to the districts is our ability to love, to feel, in a way that the Capitol cannot. They can be the new star crossed lovers. I can be the furious, grieving pregnant girl, projecting everything into a cause she believes in. It's emotion in it's rawest. And it's even better because it's true. Well, I was never pregnant, but-" She shrugs. It's the most heartfelt thing she's said in a long time.

She's mad, and her reaction that fury is predictable.

"Next condition?"

"When the war is over, if we've won, Peeta will be pardoned."

If her reaction was predictable, so too is theirs. Outrage and flat out refusal is echoed on all sides. She continues firmly, her mouth set in a grim line. "No form of punishment will be inflicted. The same goes for the other captured tributes, Johanna and Enobaria."

Madge freezes. "Wait, what?"

"Same goes for-" Katniss begins. Madge shakes her head frantically. I look at her in confusion, but she has eyes only for Katniss, and they're narrowed in complete and utter terror.

"After that. The bit about Johanna. Did you say she was captured?"

"Yes." Answers Katniss. She looks at me in confusion, but I have no more answers than her.

Madge crumples. Her head hits the table, soundless sobs moving her shoulders.

"Madge." I whisper. "Madge."

She sits up so suddenly it's unnerving, wiping away the tears with an air of impatience.

"And Annie Cresta. I don't care if she would have been pardoned anyway, you need to put it down. For Finnick's sake and for mine."

"No." Coin says, in a voice that suggests this issue is closed. She obviously doesn't know Katniss.

"Yes." Says Katniss. I can hear a tide of fury rising with her voice. The banks are about to burst, and I would not like to be Coin when they do. Our Mockingjay is not someone to be messed with. "It is NOT their fault YOU abandoned them in the arena! Who know's what the Capitol's doing to them?"

"They'll be tried with other war criminals and treated as the tribunal sees fit!" Coin, to her credit, isn't backing down in the face of Katniss's anger.

But Katniss is way, way too stubborn for her own good. She gets up from her chair, just as Madge did minutes ago, but somehow she seems even more dangerous. A minute ago I would have sworn it were impossible, but now I am faced with Katniss, I feel like shrinking away myself. Whilst Madge seemed ten times taller in her anger, Katniss seems to make Coin ten times shorter.

"They'll be granted immunity. You will personally pledge this in front of the entire population of District Thirteen and the remainder of Twelve. Soon. Today. It will be recorded for future generations. You will hold yourself and your government responsible for their safety, or you'll find yourself another Mockingjay!"

How she hasn't realised she loves Peeta (the poor sod) is beyond me.

Fulvia and Plutarch are even more idiotic than I thought, it would seem. They begin excitedly whispering about Mockingjay plans.

The fact of the matter is this is Katniss in her prime. But stick make up, special effects and a camera crew in front of her? I'm not so sure.

She wouldn't even be Katniss anymore. She's a terrible actress.

In the end, I have to forgive Plutarch, deluded as he is. He swings the bargain in Katniss's favour.

I am jerked back into the present. Katniss has one more request.

"I kill Snow." She says, her voice firm.

I exchange a smirk with Madge. This was going to be one interesting couple of months, not least because it looks as if Katniss is going to have to literally fight Coin for the pleasure of killing Snow.

I was betting it was a fight Katniss would most definitely win. I just wished I was in with a chance. That murderous white haired old man owed me big time.

After Plutarch and Fulvia have had their rant about the dreadful conditions here, and the usual courtesies are observed, they slide a notebook over to her.

I exchange a look with Madge. What on earth could make Katniss more eager to participate in this? Especially something written in a notebook!

I glance over her shoulder, and understanding clicks into place.

"Cinna." Katniss whispers.

Plutarch begins to babble again, and I exchange a victorious look with Madge. Because Plutarch, for once in his sorry excuse of a life, is right. If there were anything that could get Katniss on side, this was it.

"You're going to be the best dressed rebel in history!" I laugh.

"Our plan is to launch a series of airtime assaults, called propos, featuring you and broadcasting to the entire population of Panem. It'll feature Madge's music, and parts of all the other key rebels. I daresay Gale with have his time on the big screen."

I wrinkle my nose at the very idea, and interject what I can see as a major problem. "How? The Capitol has sole control of the broadcasts!"

"But we have Beetee!" Exclaims Plutarch, with an almost mad scientist grin on his face. He goes on to explain about Beetee's knowledge of the way the TV is run, and I zone out.

This is going to be one long haul.


	10. Chapter 10

**Authors note: So I read the reviews and realised barbarella-1980 was completely right. I definitely needed to ease the tension between them a little bit... So here it is, my light hearted chapter with as much Madge/Gale as I could fit in. I might do a couple more chapters like this before building up the tension again, or I might not build up the tension again at all, I haven't decided yet. It's kind of writing itself at the moment, and every chapter seems to be on a whim!**

**Flashbacks are sort of becoming Madge's thing, but I think it fits her. She wasn't developed very much in the books, and confusion and living in the past sort of suits her current state. **

**So, I think I've rambled long enough...I don't own the hunger games!**

Madge.

I am still laughing when we reach the door to my new apartment. "Alright. So you were right. It was the worst idea in the history of the world. I feel so sorry for Katniss."

Gale sighs, as if he's been thinking exactly the same. "What can we do though? She doesn't like it, but it will win us the war. Or at least, I hope it will."

"Not with that script." I laugh. He bites his lip, and then bursts out laughing.

"You going in?" He asks, looking at the white door to my new apartment which is completely and utterly identical to every single door on that long white corridor. I sigh.

"Just smash my good mood, why don't you?" I ask, unlocking the door.

The apartment is plain, sparsely furnished. It has a narrow single bed with a worn bed sheet and a white chest of drawers. There are no windows, and all the plain white in one space is a bit overwhelming, however much it aims to achieve the opposite. I walk in, and sit on the bed.

The lives of the people of 13 are so bland, so colourless. I feel so tempted to march to the Capitol, grab some buckets of paint and start throwing them over people. I swear, if I did, they wouldn't know what the hell each colour was. They'd be like "Is this yellow? You know I heard a legend about this colour once, from my great great grandmother. She was a stain on our family if ever there was one, always _laughing! _I know! Laughing! Can you believe it? Have you ever heard anything so shameful?"

Gale stands in the doorway, biting his lip in the way, my memory informs me, that shows he is about to burst out laughing.

"Wow. Bit of a comedown for the pampered little mayor's daughter, don't you think?" He asks.

His eyes meet mine, and we both burst out laughing. Once we've started, it's difficult to stop. I'm verging on hysterical, tears rolling down my face as I clutch my split ribs.

I fling my arms around his neck, burying my face in his shoulder and inhaling his woody, Gale scent. How he still manages to smell like the woods around 12, when he hasn't been exposed to them for god knows how many weeks is beyond me. But a Gale that didn't smell like the woods wouldn't be a Gale, and I'm grateful.

"Whatever did I do to deserve that?" He asks, pulling away with a roguish grin. I feel my heart melt, and thread my fingers through his hair.

"Just being you." I answer.

"Well then." He says. "I might try just being me a bit more often."

I scoff. "Where'd that line come from, Gale Hawthorne? From your slag heap days, no doubt!"

He laughs. "I should have known better than to attempt such a cheap line on you, Miss Mayor's-Daughter Undersee. And no, as a matter of fact. It came from my heart."

I burst out laughing at the same time he does. "Okay, I think Rory may have a point about you being feminine and stupid. Just kiss me you idiot."

He laughs.

The sound of Coin's voice echoes around the room, and I jump, thinking she's entered the room before I realise that it's coming from the receiver.

She's announcing the entire population must meet in the hall, and I remember her promise about announcing Katniss's ultimum during reflection. I sigh, and meet Gale's eye.

"We should probably go." I say, pulling his hand into mine.

He looks thoughtful all the way down to the meeting. "Okay, spill. What's up?"

"Nothing. Well, I mean, nothing out of the ordinary. I was just wondering what that was about, earlier, when Katniss let slip Johanna Mason had been captured."

"Oh." I say, deliberating carefully before I answer. "Well, she's sort of a friend."

"A friend?" Gale enquires, frowning as if he isn't able to reconcile his image of me with his image of Johanna Mason, the violent, crafty girl with bitterness and sarcasm to match.

"Yeah. We go way back."

_I was stood in the hallway off the ballroom, shivering. It was winter, and yet they still insisted that we wear these clothes. Sometimes, I just couldn't get my head around the Capitol. I got that they were twisted and evil and stuff, and that I'd never be able to understand from their point of view. But what I really didn't understand was why they would be so kamikaze as to wear these dresses in this heat._

_It was the war of the mayors daughters, but that didn't mean the Capitol's subjects weren't allowed to compete._

_Me, I wasn't so bothered. Twelve was at a disadvantage everywhere we looked, fashion included. District pride wasn't really a concept. And even if it was, it wouldn't have made a difference to me. I wouldn't let them make me up into some crazily dressed, made up puppet. Hence why I was hiding in the corridor._

_"Hey there, friend of Finnick Odair." Said a voice. I jumped, and narrowed my eyes at a girl dressed in a ridiculous green dress, revealing things that it just shouldn't be legal to reveal. If there was one thing I hated, it was girls like that._

_"Hey there, girl whose name I do not know and whose dress is-" I stopped myself. I was the mayor's daughter, and I had promised my dad I would behave. Just because we were the laughing stock of Panem most of the time, didn't mean we had to make a fuss about it._

_"Ooh, feisty! You don't know me? I'm hurt! I thought my fan base stretched to even the most outlying of districts! Let me give you a hint. I'm Johanna Mason."_

_"Technically that isn't a hint, it's __**telling me **__who you are. But hi Johanna Mason, victor of district 7."_

_"Oho! You really are feisty! Anyways, I just wanted to tell you, the boy you've been flirting with all evening, Finnick Odair, he's in love with-"_

_"Annie Cresta, one of my best friends. I have __**not **__been flirting with him! He's my friend, nothing more. I'd thank you to keep your big fat nose out in future." A moment of silence."I'm sorry. It's the-"_

_"Games?" She asks. I nod._

_"What you worried about kid?"_

_"My mum." I confess. "Her sister- Maysilee Donner, died in the games. She hasn't been right since."_

_"You love her?" Johanna asks._

_"Yes." I answer, bewildered._

_"Don't." Johanna asks. "It'll only make you weaker when the time comes. It'll only make you hurt more when he comes for you. And believe me, he will. He'll take it all. Everything."_

_Without another word, she turns on her heel and walked back inside._

It turned out, love was something beyond anyone's control. Even Johanna's. It was baby steps, but she began to care for me and I for her.

In war, there is nothing more valuable than love. Or more dangerous.

My thoughts turn to her now, all alone in a cell somewhere in the Capitol. I pictured her broken.

I blinked rapidly, but the image was burned on the back of my eyelids. My rapid recovery in command had been testament to just how much I tethered on sanity's knife edge. One moment I was sobbing my heart out, the next I was fine.

One minute I was praising Gale, the next there was nothing but blame in my voice.

Johanna Mason was strong, resilient, and had nothing left to lose. She wouldn't back down in the face of the Capitol's demands, and when we won, she would just spring right back. If there was one victor that had no need of Katniss's immunity, it was her.

But there would also be part of her that was broken, just like now, there was a part of me.

She had been right, about love. It had only ever gotten me into scrapes, only ever led me to more pain. Snow had destroyed my mother long ago, he had killed both parents, burnt everything I knew in the world to the ground and taken Annie and Johanna away. Perhaps he had broken Finnick, maybe even Katniss.

But I refused to let him break me.

I was going to fight to the death, because if we lost, it would mean death for us all. But it was more than that. Everything the Capitol had ever done, every person that had ever died... I wouldn't let it be for nothing.

One face in particular sticks in my mind. Gale Hawthorne's hand is firmly in mine.

He kisses me on top of my head, and gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. "She'll be okay. They all will. We're going to win, Madge."

"I know." I replied, smiling and leaning against him as Coin's speech began.

The reactions to the ultimum are just as predictable as they were in command. Left, right and centre, I hear noises of outrage and denial.

It never occurred to any of the citizens in thirteen that, just maybe, this was too big of an ask of a confused 17 year old girl who had been through hell and back. It had for me, and for Gale. He is watching with incoherent rage as the people of 13 voice their disapproval.

The people of 12 gave Katniss, and gave her without question, to the games. They gave her because they had no choice. Because for 74 years parents had watched on in despair whilst their children died before their eyes, knowing there was nothing they could do to save them. That this force was too big to fight.

For the 3rd time in 74 years, our child was returned to us. She was given back. But nothing in this world is given freely, and every sacrifice has its cost.

It turned out, that cost was Katniss. Not in a literal sense. In a sense that she wasn't who she once was. She may have kept her head down. She may have been reluctant to voice opinions. But everyone knew who she was. There was hardly anyone in 12 who wouldn't have nodded at her in the streets. We were perfectly happy with her the way she was.

When she came back she was different. She wasn't the way she once was. I can't imagine what she must have gone through, but I can imagine what Prim, what Mrs Everdeen, what Gale went through. Because it was the same thing I did.

They're the ones who are silent now.

They know she could ask for anything in the world, and it wouldn't be a big enough compensation for what this earth has put her through. What Snow has, what Coin has, what we all have...

"Madge!" Posy's voice yanks me from my thoughts. I whirl around, Gale's hand still in mine. I locate her in the dispersing crowd, standing in between Vick and Rory.

"Rosy Posy!" I say, Gale's nickname falling easily from my lips. She grins, and let's go of her brother's hands so she can run over to me. She hugs me around the middle, and I run the finger's of my spare hand through her hair, which is in two sweet little braids.

"When did you start doing your hair like this?" I ask, smiling.

If I am bewildered by the way Gale has managed to retain his woody smell, I am completely amazed by the fact that Posy still smells like flowers. How she even smelt like flowers in the first place, when she never even left the district boundaries, is completely beyond comprehension. I guess some little girls are just meant to smell of sweetness and beauty.

"Prim did it for me. Do you like it?" She asks anxiously, vying for my opinion. I smile.

"I love it. You look really pretty, all grown up."

"Good." She says, in a satisfied tone. "I don't like it here." she whispers.

"Really?" I whisper back. "Why ever not?"

"The clothes." She says miserably, plucking at the hem of her grey linen dress. "And the food. In district 12, Gale brought nice food. And the clothes were old, but they had pretty colours in them."

"I couldn't agree more. I tell you what, when we win the war, I'll take you to the Capitol and we'll buy the brightest coloured piece of clothing we can find. How about that?"

She laughs. "That sounds wonderful! Does Gale have to come?"

I laugh, and glance up at Gale, who is smiling good naturedly.

"No. It'll be just us girls. We'll bring Katniss and Prim too, make a proper adventure of it. And afterwards, we'll get Gale to paint our nails. He's rather good at them, you know."

Posy giggles.

"You painted nails?" Rory asks incredulously, a grin spreading from ear to ear as if it's just been announced Christmas, Easter and his birthday have come all at once.

"You're such a sap." Laughs Vick, a similar smile spreading over his face.

"What can I say?" Laughing Gale, pulling both the struggling boys into a headlock. "I'm a girl at heart."

We walk back to the Hawthorne apartment together, Vick and Rory still teasing Gale and Posy still in serious discussion about the dress she's going to buy.

"So, Rosy Posy, what are you going to do with the rest of your day?" Asks Gale when we reach the apartment, Vick and Rory having already raced in, each trying to beat the other to the ancient looking book in the corner that is their sole entertainment.

"Spend it with Madge." Says Posy firmly.

"I think I'm going to spend the rest of the day with Madge." He says, grinning. "Can you not think of something better to do?"

"No, I want to spend the rest of the day with Madge or I'll tell mummy that you were talking about the war with me again."

I laugh. I had been informed of the discussion she referred to. Gale, however, looked as if he'd just been informed he was about to go to the guillotine.

"Just as stubborn as her brother. I'm guessing it's the Hawthorne family trait?" I whisper to Gale, who laughs despite himself.

"Alright Posy, how about this. You let me and Gale talk this evening, and I'll take you to see the new piano Coin's given me tomorrow morning while Gale's in nuclear history? Just us two?"

Posy grins from ear to ear. "Will you play the funny song about the bumble bee?" She asks.

"Sure. I'll play whichever songs you want me too." I answer.

"Alright. See you later!" She says, and she runs to join the fray of the Vick/Rory argument. I laugh to myself, and turn to Gale. He's looking at me as if he's never seen me before.

"What?" I ask, brushing a stray curl behind my ear, more self conscious than usual under his remarkably sharp gaze.

"I'm going to marry you one day." He says.

I blush and, for once, don't have a smart answer.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's note: This is a quite short chapter but I quite enjoyed writing it anyways... **

**I don't own the hunger games :(**

Gale.

I wake up to an anxious knocking on the door. My mother sits up, and Posy stirs feebly. Next to me, Vick mumbles incoherently, coming around. Only Rory doesn't stir, snoring lightly next to Posy. In fact, he doesn't wake up until Posy punches him.

"Ow, Posy! What was that for?"

"Your snoring was annoying me." She said nonchalantly, shrugging.

"So you punched me?"

"Whoever would be at the door at his hour?" Cries my mother, effectively cutting through their argument. I shrug, and swing my legs off the bed.

When I open the door, it is to find Madge stood there, already fully dressed and with a huge grin on her face.

"Sorry, Mrs Hawthorne. I didn't mean to wake you up. But it seems Gale has forgotten something."

I frown, trying to remember, before I recall our conversation with Haymitch Abernathy last night.

"I'll be one second!" I tell her, already pulling a coarse jumper over the t-shirt I slept in last night. She smiles, and averts her eyes, striking up a conversation with my mother, who she hasn't seen since the day of the bombing.

Madge and my mother's relationship always confused me. Madge was the privileged (but never snobby) Mayor's daughter who had everything anyone could ask for and had never, ever had to skip a meal. It was everything my mother could hope for for her children, and everything she couldn't have.

Besides that, they were each others opposite in every way. Madge was delicate but strong, and my mother was the tough washer woman who found a way for her family to survive when it had all seemed impossible. Sure, they were both pig headed stubborn, but other than that... what did they have in common?

Now I started to think about it properly, quite a lot.

_"Knock knock!" I called out, walking into the house with a huge grin on my face, Madge's hand in mine. My mother looks up from the sink, a smile on her face despite her raw hands, holding out her cheek expectantly. I kissed her, and sent her a look that quite simply said 'Do not mess this up for me.'_

_"Mum, this is Madge. Madge, my mum."_

_"It's a pleasure to meet you." Madge said. She had no idea what to do. All her fancy training in the art of detached smiles and pretty manners had in no way prepared her for this. _

_"And you Madge." She says. "I've heard so much about you, and that's just from Posy!"_

_Madge laughs. "She's such a lovely little girl. I hope you don't mind me stealing her away so often!"_

_My mother laughs. "No, it's wonderful for her to have something to do. I do worry about her, she's always playing on her own. She doesn't like dolls very much, like all the other girls seem to. The only thing that could ever motivate her was singing, and I don't have much time for that."_

_Madge just smiled gently. "Well, she seems pretty motivated when she's with me. I've never seen such a natural at the piano."_

_My mother smiles back. "Well, I'm glad. And the tales she comes back with of strawberry cakes and teacups and sheet music and pretty dresses. I daresay she's in heaven. Oh, and I'm not sure if she mentioned, but thank you for the cupcakes you sent last week. They were delicious!"_

_Madge smiled again. "You're very welcome. Posy made them, anyway. I've never seen such a mess in my whole life! Icing sugar everywhere! We had so much fun."_

_I furrow my brow now, because it sounds like charity. Me and my family survive just fine. I don't need Madge or, indeed, Katniss, to feed us._

_"It's not charity." Madge whispers under her breath. "Posy brings laughter into our house. It hasn't been heard in a long time, Gale. And trust me, we need it."_

_I remember Madge's mother, and realise she's right. So I let it go without comment._

_Throughout dinner, I can feel Madge absorbing every little thing about our home. Not maliciously or with any kind of judgement- that isn't Madge's style. Just with the natural curiosity that seems to characterise everything about her. _

_I try to see my home from her point of view. There's a framed piece of embroidery on the wall- a wedding present from my grandmother, who sold embroidery at the hob to boost the income my grandfather made, which, trust me, wasn't a lot. Hard wooden chairs around an ancient table, a threadbare rug by the unlit fire, a worn sofa, a little sink, a stove and cupboard which pass for a kitchen, a tin tub on the floor in which my mother does all the laundry, and two rooms leading off- the room which Rory, Vick and I share and the room which Posy and my mother share. _

_It's a poor show, but it's home. Madge, however, is watching everything in evident enjoyment. _

_"Here, let me help with that." Madge says, collecting all the plates and bringing them over to the sink. She herself refused all food, insisting she wasn't hungry. I knew she just didn't want to take food out of our mouths, when we clearly had so much less than her, and I was grateful. She was bullied into accepting a cake by Posy and my mum, however, and had drunk a cup of tea._

_She washed the dishes twice as quickly as my mother, hands still clumsy from all the laundry she'd been doing, could have done. Without another word, she picked up a scrubbing brush and began to wash the clothes, some of which were hers._

_"You don't need to do that, dear." My mother said, touching Madge's smooth, unblemished hands with her own sore, rough, wrinkled ones. Madge smiled, and when she did the entire room seemed to light up._

_"I want to." She said firmly. My mother didn't question her after that._

_..._

_"So, what do you think of Madge?" I asked my mother._

_"She's a lovely girl." My mother smiled. Her facial expression darkened a little. "But Gale, you have to understand, sweetheart. She's the mayor's daughter."_

_"What of it?" I asked, stubborn as ever._

_"Darling, moving from the town into the seam is hard on anyone, and going from a privileged, adored young lady to a miner's wife is no easy transition. You just have to look at Rosemary to know that. It takes someone very special to make you want to, and someone very strong to have the courage to follow their heart."_

_I sighed. "What exactly are you saying? That you don't think I'm 'special' enough or you don't think Madge is strong enough?"_

_"No. I'm saying I think both. The way she looked at you, and you at her should be testament enough of that, and Madge appears to me to be one of the most strong, stubborn young ladies I've ever met. That's exactly the problem." Seeing my face, she touched my cheek and smiled sadly, picking up her basket of laundry. "All I'm saying is, I hope she had enough practice of washing dishes and clothes and going without meals this afternoon to prepare her for what life may hold."_

...

"Ready to go?" she asks, holding out a hand. I smile.

We walk through the deserted corridors of thirteen in comparative silence, but it's comfortable, and I don't feel the need to break it.

"Down here." She says, tugging gently on my hand.

"What? In the studio?"

"No, the room off it where you can watch everything that's going on. We sat there yesterday, remember?"

"Oh." Is all I say.

It seems an odd place to hold a meeting about Katniss being the mockingjay, when it's the scene of the worst performance Katniss ever gave. The worst performance anyone in the world ever gave.

Madge stifles her laughter, knowing what I'm thinking without having to ask, as always. "I think that's why Haymitch chose to host it there. He wants us all to know what an awful job Fulvia and Plutarch are doing of utilising on our mockingjay. Katniss can't act. Everything she does needs to be real, and the cameras don't feel real."

I nod, but don't elaborate any further as we step into the room.

Haymith looks dreadful. I'll never be his biggest fan, but I have to respect him, even if only slightly. If he can't be given sole responsibility for Katniss's survival, then he sure as hell did help. She needed him then. And, whether she choses to acknowledge it or not, she needs him now too.

His face is sallow, yellowing skin hanging off him. He doesn't look like he's transitioning very well.

It's an extremely odd assortment of people gathered there. There's most of 12, Boggs (a pretty little bruise flowering on his cheek) and Katniss's prep team.

I can't explain the anger that flows every time I catch sight of them. I guess it's their pathetic air, that they are so completely incapable of defending themselves, that they hid behind their supposed ignorance.

Ignorance is never an excuse. Not in Panem. Not anywhere.

Besides, I don't believe for one second that they, what exactly? Never registered that the children they so enjoyed making over in their ridiculous Capitol fashions were about to be thrown into a fight to the death that they could never, ever be equipped for in a million lifetimes?

I didn't buy it. There wasn't anyone thick enough for that. Not even someone who'd been brought up with the Capitol's morals drilled into them. Nobody had such a thick skull as to not even realise the children they were dressing up were like a meal presented on a silver plate. Murder or be murdered. That just about summed up the games.

Madge throws me a look. It's the look that says 'Stop being an idiot.'

How exactly I am being an idiot, how exactly she expects me to control myself in the presence of those utter morons, I do not know. But I give her hand another reassuring squeeze anyway.

We sit down in adjoining seats, hands still firmly entwined.

The meeting, it turns out, _is _about Katniss's awful performance. However did they pick that up? I lose interest, and concentrate on the stray curl that has escaped Madge's pony tail.

She, on the other hand, is listening in rapt concentration, not even noticing my intense gaze. It isn't until she speaks that I realise what vain the conversation has taken.

"When she was dragged away by the peacekeeper, in District Twelve, and didn't get to say goodbye. She was screaming, and then she caught my eye inexplicably. I'd already known she wasn't coming back, but that was when it hit me, properly hit me, what was going on. She mouthed 'look after them.' And the fight just seemed to drain from her. The look on her face isn't something I think I'll ever forget." Madge says. She meets Katniss's eye, and there is an understanding passing between them, of something I can't comprehend.

Katniss looks at her hands, and the people around the table are silent for a moment, before someone chips in with the iconic poisonous berries moment, and the moving Katniss moments tennis game continues.

There are a million moments which I can think of. When I was being whipped, and just before I lost conciousness, heard her scream my name. When she begged me to look after Prim and her mother, and not let them starve, just before I was dragged away by the peacekeepers in charge. When she first came back, and looked at us all in the station, and there was such relief in her eyes it was unreal. When she was at the party after winning the games and never once let go of Katniss's hand. When she was talking about Prim on the interview night before the games. When she tracked down Peeta just after they announced that two victors could go home. When she shot the arrow at Cato, and you could tell that it wasn't out of vengence, but out of mercy. When she was with Rue, and she was so gentle and teasing, a real big sister. Just like Rue had needed. When she had made that speach, in 11, on the victory tour, and you could just see her heart breaking. When she stood up in command the other day, incensed beyond belief, defending the other victors and bargaining for their lives.

I looked at Madge, and saw the memories in her face, too.

When I woke up after being whipped, and she was there, just waiting. When she broke down in the woods, the day after her mother became critically ill, and thought she was her aunt. When she first played piano for me, and it was like there was magic pouring out of the instrument into the air. When Posy was sick, and she sat by her bed, not stirring, hardly eating or even sleeping, just sat there. When she was watching the games, and she practically moved right along with Katniss. When she was comforting Prim, just after Rue died, her mouth a tight line of worry. When she was teasing Vick and Rory. When she told me I was forgiven, and it was like I had been dead, and was now revived. When she too had faced down Coin in command the other day, and had been so magnificent, so beautiful, it was scary.

She looks at me now, and I know for some reason, this ordinary moment is one I will never forget.

I could live a thousand lifetimes, and none would be as good as this one. Because there was suffering, and there was pain, and there was hate... Yet I could _feel. _I could feel it all, experience every single moment, appreciate it all so perfectly. Yes, there were experiences so traumatic at times they made me wish I had never even experienced them at all, but you had to experience the bad to experience the good. It was just the way this screwed up world worked.

Some prices should never have to be paid. Katniss never should have gone into the games. Madge should never, ever have been put through the torment of watching her mother waste away before her eyes, of having her loved ones taken away from her one by one, of waiting anxiously to find out who was next...

But it was all this which allowed me to perceive clearly what others could not. To realise the extraordinary nature of the girl sat next to me, to feel the life pulsing so perfectly through the hand held in my own.

It was shock that I realised something extraordinary...

I wouldn't have traded a single second of it.


	12. Chapter 12

**So I really need to get on with my Spanish, Biology, English and Geography homework, so I'm going to end this chapter here... **

**Hope you like it! **

**Oh, and I don't own the hunger games, in case you hadn't already guessed :)**

Madge.

The meeting adjourns in the conclusion that Katniss will go to a low risk war zone in order to get some better shots of her. Gale and I linger behind, uncertain. She's about to face down Haymitch. Part of me thinks maybe we should be there for moral support, and part of me thinks that this isn't something I want to miss.

Another part thinks maybe I should be running, that I might just be stood in the middle of another soon to be war zone.

"You can go." He says, his eyes still on Katniss as he talks to us. "It's me who needs protecting."

I spot the mark of nails on his face, and, remembering the story Gale told me, realise he is completely right.

We're to leave 13, and go into a zone where the war actually rages. I can't explain the relief that wells up inside me. All I know is that I'm so sick of discussing from the confines of a white room, of being underground, where no one could ever hurt me and nothing ever seemed real. I want to be of real help.

Beetee is pleased to see me, as always. He's bigger fishes to fry at the moment, of course, but still spares us both a minute to talk us through the armour. It's the basic grey 'military jumpsuit' but apparently, thanks to my communicuff, I qualify for 'special protection'. I have some sort of shield thing in my shoulder pads, and a helmet with extra layers. The trousers aren't flammable, but have to have a double belt in order for me to keep them up, having previously belonged to a girl I've seen around command, who was a little bigger than me around the waist. My boots are made of some special material that's really hard to penetrate, and my helmet has a face guard attached. Gale too has more protection than the average soilder.

It makes me feel off, being singled out like this. How much value can I really be to the war effort, all things considered? What did I ever do that resulted in me being more worthy of protection than all the other people who will be on the squad?

But I have no time to dwell, as Beetee is talking us through our weapons. Mine turns out to be an massive set of poisoned darts. As it transpires, however, they do more than just shoot poison, as I am quick to discover.

They work in the same way as Katniss and Gale's bow and arrows. Centre is normal poison, left is fire, and right is explosives. I test them out on Beetee's target range, and find them to be incredibly accurate, not to mention immensely satisfying.

Beetee smiles sadly, and turns to go. I catch him by the wheel of his wheel chair, and kiss him on the cheek. "It's nice to see you." I whisper. "And I'm so sorry about Wiress."

He smiles sadly. "Me too, Madge. Me too."

"Is there anyone you don't know?" Gale asks in wonderment as we walk up the many flights of stairs so we can get the lift to the hanger. I shrug.

"I'm the Mayor's daughter, Hawthorne." I remind him.

He grins. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"That I have lots of contacts. And that I was perfectly respectable before you came along." I grin, finding myself trapped against the wall, his arms forming an impenetrable barrier.

"I don't believe it." He laughs, a teasing light in his eye.

"Well, you should. I was virtually incorruptible. Even my father said so."

"Oh?" He laughs.

"Hmm. And then you came, and broke down all my barriers. It was a sad day for my dad indeed."

"But a very good day for you." He grins. I laugh.

"Don't flatter yourself. But yes." I put on my most insultingly superior Capitol tone. "It was a very good day indeed."

He laughs, and pulls me close.

Coin clears her throat nearby, and we both spin around. She isn't speaking through a receiver this time, but stood right next to us.

"We have a very busy schedule, Soldier Hawthorne, Soldier Undersee. If you are too preoccupied to deal with it, then perhaps I can find some more eager soldier's to participate?"

"No." I say, straightening up, putting a hand on Gale's shoulder to stop him spontaneously combusting in rage, and smiling tightly as best as I could under the circumstances. "We're sorry for the delay. We're coming."

"Hmm." Says Gale the minute Coin's back is turned, whispering so she can't hear us over the clattering of our footsteps as we walk down the corridor. "Maybe you really are the Mayor's daughter."

I slap his arm playfully.

"And maybe you really are an idiot." He laughs, and grins. Coin glances over her shoulder. The look on her face is enough to silence us both.

I stand awkwardly as Gale talks with Plutarch. It is a relief to have the distraction of Katniss entering, talking with Boggs.

I have to admit Boggs is growing on me. At first, from Katniss and Gale's reactions, I expected him to be a sort of mutt, bred for war with no other coding than to follow orders. But I've found him to be kind and mostly gentle, with more humour than anyone I've met so far in 13 can lay claim to.

I follow Fulvia, grinning at Katniss despite myself. It's so good to see her again, after all this time of thinking she's dead. I don't let Gale out of my sight, either, fearing that if I turn my back he'll just disappear, or that I'll wake up in four and this entire thing will have been a dream.

Fulvia is disgruntled in the extremes when she catches sight of Katniss's makeup free face.

"All that work, down the drain." She rambles. "I'm not blaming you, Katniss. It's just that very few people are born with camera ready faces. Like him." She grabs Gale, who looks awkward and bemused. I narrow my eyes at her. "Isn't he handsome?"

I clear my throat loudly, Gale throwing me a look that is both amused and embarrassed. Katniss shifts from foot to foot, the unsaid things that hung in the air in command resurfacing now, making the air seem thicker than my father's lumpy custard...

"Well, don't expects us to be too impressed." Says Boggs. "We've just seen Finnick Odair in his underwear."

I positively beam at him.

The thing is, I know there is some sort of history between Gale and Katniss... An intensity to their relationship. I know that Gale, at least, liked her for a long time, though from what I've been told it was **_almost _**_completely _one sided.

And until I figure out exactly what it is went down between them, and am told by Gale himself, I am not comfortable with the subject being broached... least of all with Katniss present.

I belt myself into the helicopter next to Gale. I don't know what I am going to, and I only realise now that I have no idea what the word war actually entitles, what it could mean for me, for Gale and for Katniss and everyone else I love, what it could mean for the whole of Panem...

_I walked into my fathers office. Upon finding it unoccupied, I leant over the desk to scribble a note stating I was going for a walk with Gale, and would be back by night fall._

_As I straightened up, I caught sight of the muted television screen._

_It was an update on how the uprising was going for the rebels... Almost without thinking, I reached for the remote and switched on the sound._

_"Footage of District 7, where things are reaching a new all time low." The reported said, over and over._

_I could do nothing but stare at the people on the TV screen, at all the fires ranging from small bonfires to massive inferno broke out all over the place, the screaming, masked people throwing everything they could lay their hands on, from bricks to bomb shells...Even in the comfortable office, I could feel the heat of the fire on my face, hear the shattering of the glass, the bashing of peacekeeper's boots against the tiles, the screams of the wounded and the fallen, the smashing of the glass..._

_"Capitol forces on their way in as we speak."_

_I gasped, and switched it off, feeling decidedly sick._

_I most definitely did not want to know what __**'"Capitol forces on their way as we speak."' **__would mean._

_Maybe I had a better idea of what we were up against than most._

"Nightlock." I whisper, as I take the purple pills from his hand with trembling fingers. It is with shock I realise how willing I would be to use them, if ever the need were to arise. I lock eyes with Gale, and know instantly that he is thinking exactly the same thing.

Our descent into 8 is relatively smooth. We walk down the road to a row of warehouses with 'H' painted on. I know it's paint, but part of me can't help comparing it with blood, running deep scarlet. The colour of misery, despondency and desperation.

And all are tangible in the air around me.

Prim has been training me as a healer. I may be handy with the poisonous darts, but I'm more of a healer than I am a fighter. There are hundreds, possibly even thousands, of wounded, to every ten or so healers. My hands tingle, wanting so badly to be of use, not to maim but to heal... To help.

Evidently, Katniss doesn't share my feelings.

"This won't work!" She says, an air of wild panic about her. "I won't be good here."

Boggs places an arm on her shoulder. "You will. Just let them see you! That will do more for them than any doctor in the world could."

I am so preoccupied with watching the wounded, in various pathetic states, enter the hospital, and controlling my impulse to run over and help the medics, that I don't catch sight of the woman until she is right up close.

"This is commander Paylor of Eight." Says Boggs, and he introduces Katniss.

I lose track of the conversation for a moment watching a young man, stripped to the waist, screaming a name I think is his daughter's.

"You think this a good idea?" Gale asks, frowning in the same direction as me. "Assembling the wounded like this?"

"Gale!" I cry. He jumps, and turns to me in evident surprise. "What would you rather? Just leave them to die? These people are doing their best." Tears in my eyes, I turn to the hospital.

Paylor looks at me, an air of appraisal. "This is Madge Undersee." Says Boggs, answering the unasked question. "She's-"

"Yeah, heard of her too. Another leader?"

I look back at Paylor. "No." I answer, but there_ is_ an air of authority in my voice I can't keep out. "I was the Mayor's daughter."

She nods, as if that was the right answer.

"Come on then, Mockingjay. And by all means, bring your friends."

We all follow Katniss and Paylor. At the entrance, however, I am distracted by a young woman, sobbing brokenly as she clutches a newborn child wailing just as loudly to her chest.

I kneel down beside her. "Can I take a look?"

Her eyes narrow in suspicion. "Please? I have training in healing." I put a hand carefully on her shoulder, avoiding any wounds. "My name is Madge Undersee."

The woman gives a slight gasp of recognition. She cannot be much older than me, perhaps 19, give or take two years or so.

"What happened to-"

"The father?" She laughs bitterly. "He's a peacekeeper. Thought he loved me. Turns out he didn't love no one but himself."

I reach my arms out tentatively. "Please?" I ask. "I can help. I promise."

She hands the child over. She is swaddled in a faded pink blanket, little arms poked out and flailing desperately. I have never seen anything which melted my heart so effectively as this despair carved into such a young, innocent face.

"What's her name?" I ask quietly, placing my little finger in the baby's mouth.

"Cyra. After my younger sister. She- she-" Says the girl, looking so exhausted it would have broken my heart, had it not already been well and truly smashed by the infant cradled close to my chest. The tears in her eyes tell me enough about what happened to the baby's namesake, and I nod, relieving her of the responsibility of going on.

"And yours?"

"Miriam." She answers, her eyes closing.

Miriam looks as if she has been through hell and back. The sheets are heavily stained with blood and the stench of the unwashed bodies which came before her, and the poor girl looks desperate.

"Well, Miriam-"

"Don't tell me!" She wails. "She's dying! It's all my fault! I lost Cyra once, I can't lose her again! Now I know why my mother told me not to name her-"

"Miriam." I whisper, cutting off the flow of words. "She's going to be alright. It's a chest infection, quite easy to treat. The best thing I can prescribe under the circumstances"

That's when the alarms sound, signalling the arrival of the planes. Miriam's eyes fly open in pure, undiluted terror.

"TAKE HER!" She screams. "Please! Please, take her! Save her, please!"

And there is so much agony, so much pain, so much exhaustion in her face, so much desperation in her voice that I don't even hesitate. I flee the woman on the poorly erected bed, her daughter beginning to cry hoarsely again in my arms...


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's note: Happy Monday everyone!**

**Due to a minor trauma caused by two escape chickens and slow internet this evening, I'm not as far along with my writing as I'd hoped :( However, on the plus side, thanks to my sister and I, oreO (Deliberate spelling. Slightly odd friend!) and Gingernut are safely back in their pen and I am able to continue with this story, which makes me really happy XD!**

**Also, I was picking up my sister this evening when two kids on the opposite side of the road asked us if we were friends for no apparent reason (we really don't look alike, and there's a 5 year age gap.) My automatic reply was "No, we're sisters." And it got me thinking... I love my sister to bits. We're really close, even if she is evil some of the time... Can you be friends with your sibling? So prepare for some chapters devoted to Gale and Madge's relationships with Vick, Rory, Posy and quite possibly Prim. Review, if you have time?**

**The first poem is Fire and Ice by Robert Frost, and the line is from The Hollow Men by TS Elliot :)**

**I don't own the hunger games!**

Gale.

"Where's Madge?" I cry, the increasing desperation evident in my voice. How had I let her out of my sight, even for a second?

One moment she was next to me, the next she was no where to be an. The incoming bombs were already making their presence known, and as they did so, so did my heart…

Where was she? What had happened to her? Tears stung my eyes, but I refused to acknowledge their existence. I had already known the pain of losing her once, I had no desire to become re acquainted...

My eyes scan the opening of the warehouse for any sign of her striking eyes or the sun bouncing off the mass of blond hair, but to no avail.

There is no more warning than the crying of an infant before she runs into our midst. Dumping the flailing child into a startled Bogg's arms, she throws her arm around my neck, burying her face in my shoulder as she always does. It's a familiar gesture, and I knot my hands in her hair, inhaling her sweet smell.

When I look up, the cameras are trained on us.

Pure, red hot rage begins to course through my veins. Plutarch is watching with a satisfied smile that tells me this footage isn't going into the unused pile.

Clenching my fists at my side, I prepare to I don't know what… Smashing the camera to pieces, and the camera crew with them, seems to be my best option right now.

I am on the verge of acting on the impulse when I catch sight of Katniss.

Not an ounce of concentration is focused on the cameramen; her eyes are turned to the skies. Shame sweeps through me, cutting my insides like a 9 inch long knife.

While I was worrying about a mangy inch long piece of film, the Capitol had turned it's guns towards 8, and the helpless people so desperately in need of salvation.

"They're aiming for the hospital." Says Madge, her gasped exclamation coming just seconds after I make the dreadful realization myself.

"Cover me." Mouthes Katniss.

Not a chance. I was coming with her, come hell or high water.

Just as she's about to move, however, the tremors from a bomb blasts us all off our feet. Madge smashes into the wall beside me, and without thinking or planning or even knowing what I am doing, my fingers find hers.

Hating the sensation of being backed against a wall, of being cowed or weakened, potentially in the face of an enemy; I try to get back to my feet. Madge tugs on my fingers, telling me without words to get down and stay down if I know what's good for me.

First instinct is to protect her, but there is a look in her eye that says she would neither like nor tolerate me protecting her. Madge Undersee doesn't need anyone to stop the bombs raining down on her thank you very much, so to speak. Nobody will be protecting her but herself.

Part of me wonders if just maybe it's because I didn't manage to save her from the bombs the first time round that she won't let me now.

Shaking off the ill warranted and unwelcome thought, I grip her hand still more tighter to assure myself she's still there, and brace myself to throw myself in front of her at a seconds notice should the need arise.

Katniss is talking down her headset to Haymitch. I can't her what she's saying, Boggs-the-human-shield lain on top of her. Also, I doubted I would be able to hear her even if Boggs wasn't being so suicidal as to try and protect our Mockingjay. Bombs deafening blasts prevent me from hearing even Madge, who is sat right next to me, returning the circulation cutting pressure that I am exerting on her hand.

Plutarch sounds in my ears, informing us we have just enough time to get to the underground bunker before the next wave will hit us.

We don't make it. I see Katniss dive into a nearby alleyway, and pull Madge after me as I jump down after her.

I protect them both as best as I can, but in the end both of them push me away, and I collapse against the swall next to them.

Katniss closes her eyes a second, then looks at us both.

It isn't much, but it's enough for all of us to understand what has to be done.

We sprint towards the direction of the return fire we can hear. Somehow, both girls are faster than me. Our little entourage spot what we're doing, and try to follow. Madge's shoe comes off, but she carries on running, stockinged feet hitting the debris covered ground with unwanted venom that should be splitting open a normal person's foot.

Much more than the pampered little Mayor's daughter, beyond question of a doubt...

Stalling the camera crew does not prove an easy task. As I begin to scramble up the ladder, my boot collides with someone's face, a sickening crunch marking the moment. Stopping only for a moment while the sound and oath registered, I grab Katniss and Madge's hands and allow them to hoist me up.

Once it is settled that we shall be using our own arrows, we all crowd into one nest.

"Does Boggs know your up here?" Asks Paylor, a quizzical expression on her face. Smiling grimly, Katniss is quick to think up a reply.

"He knows where we are, alright."

"Better start with fire." I suggest. Katniss nods, and un sheafs one. Madge was already loading one in her high tech dart gun.

They seem to appear out of nowhere. One moment there is nothing but a stretch of empty sky, the next it is filled with war planes.

"Geese!" Yells Katniss. And she's right.

Madge takes the left, Katniss the centre, leaving me with the right. We're so perfectly in sync, no further discussion is needed. Which is good, because there wouldn't have been time anyways.

When I miss my first target, the warehouse catches fire, and I feel my chest go up in flames as it does. Swearing under my breath, I imagine the feral conditions, the flies buzzing in on wounds, nurses and healers and medics abandoning their despairing patients as they try to put out the fire... Which was caused by me.

With no time to dwell, I concentrate on bringing down another. I am caught by an impressive shot of Katniss's.

"Nice shot." I say.

"I wasn't even aiming for that one." She mutters under her breath, reaching for another arrow.

Madge has single handedly brought down one of the planes on the left, riddled with bullet holes that reminds me absurdly of the swiss cheese Peeta Mellark's father used to import from the Capitol sometimes...

Finding no time for anything more than clapping her on the back, we all load the explosive tipped missiles. Fire wasn't even making a dent, excepting the uncannily well aimed one Madge brought down.

Katniss stands, and I understand in an instant what she is about to do. I nod at Madge, and we both aim for the tail of the plane.

We bring down several by blowing off the wings, hitting in the underbelly and tails, but it's no use. By the time the third formation appears, we've knocked about as many out of the air as we could hope to. Attack easing, I wonder what at what cost we won today, what the damage is in the already war ravaged district below us...

"Did they hit the hospital?" Madge asks frantically.

"Must have." Paylor replies grimly.

"Oh, no." Katniss whispers. Madge and I follow her gaze.

At the sight of the hospital, Madge falls to her feet.

Miners never abandon accidents unless the odds are impossible. Impossibilities don't come often. But this...

Allowing my eyes to rove over the building suppresses the scream I've been sucking in. I don't think it is an image with will ever, ever leave me...

The roof has collapsed, and the entire building is in flames.

Flames seem to have become so common now... I'm starting to think it is the worst way in the world to die. No matter if there is something strangely beautiful about fire, about the colours and the flickering, crushing heat. No matter if the smoke would ensure it was relatively painless, provided you didn't wake up. A lifetime which ends in raging heat and desire and devastation...

Briefly, I close my eyes, and a poem surfaces from deep within the recesses of my mind...

_Some say the world will end in fire,_  
_Some say in ice._  
_From what I've tasted of desire_  
_I hold with those who favor fire._  
_But if it had to perish twice,_  
_I think I know enough of hate_  
_To say that for destruction ice_  
_Is also great_  
_And would suffice._

It was a poem my father knew, from a time long, long before Panem existed... He'd tell it to us every time he put us to bed. Perhaps it was not an ordinary bedtime story to tell a set of sons suffering from a bad case of insomnia, but knowing my father, it wasn't meant to be.

It's purpose was as a warning.

My eyes fly open. They were wrong. It's all wrong! Doesn't the building before me prove just that? Ice is not _hate_... Ice is cold, ice is hard, ice is _indifference_...

Fire is so much more. Fire is flickering, all consuming, raging on and on, _devastating_ everything regardless of whether there is anyone to witness the destruction or not... Fire does not take note of innocence, or of goodness, or of what is right, all consuming and unstoppable, you just have to wait for it to burn out, and pray that, once it is done, there will be something left...

Fire does only what it is designed for...

Fire _burns_, and fire _catches_.

Fire is hate.

Once you've felt the first prick of fire consuming your soul, there is no going back.

Madge told me that once, and it could not sum up the atrocity happening before our very eyes more accurately.

I notice that Madge is speaking. Or not so much speaking as whimpering. The same word, over and over and over.

"Why, why, why, why-"

_This is how the world ends. Not with a bang but a whimper._

I wonder what she sees, when she looks upon the flames. I wonder if she sees 12 again. I wonder if she sees her friends, her parents, everything she knew in the world, being destroyed...

Maybe Peeta has a point about the extinction of humanity. But there cannot be a ceasefire, and right here, in district 8, is the very proof, the very answer to that question.

There cannot be a ceasefire because of the extent the Capitol are willing to go to _burn out _the rebellion. They are fighting fire with fire, and it's a _dangerous game _to play.

Face after face flashes before my eyes. Each of them reaching out to touch a part of Katniss, a part of the mockingjay, a part of the rebellion, a part of freedom from oppression, a part of the promise of a better tomorrow...

What was their crime? I feel as if I am screaming, and yet as if I am whimpering... They had given their children to the games for so long. How could be one be so without morals, so without any sort of conscience, to destroy, _obliterate_, an entire building of people made so completely helpless by the very people that aimed their guns this way now that they were completely _incapable _of helping themselves?

They chose to fight. Not only for their children, but for themselves... So they could live without fear, could live without wondering if every day could be their last. So they could turn on their television without having to see _real _children die before their eyes.

No one should have to fight for the right to live out each day, for each meal, to witness each rotation of the sun... Yet this was exactly what they were forced to do.

They had been ordinary people. They had not necessarily even made the decision to fight. They had experienced the sun on their face, the wind in their hair. They had smiled and they had laughed and they had cried and they had wept... They had pitied and empathized, they had experienced... They had thrown tantrums, stood their ground, known trials and tribulations, success and misery, forgotten and remembered. They had tried to ignore, and they had failed so miserably it had cost them their life. They had loved and they had hated, they had shone with the essence of human life, of the miracle that was being alive, every single one.

Yet they had been completely wiped out in such a merciless way by the people who had once vowed to protect them...

I want out... Every cell, every fibre seemed to scream out. I was sick and tired of this world, so very, very _sick_ and so very, very _tired_. Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, that there was nothing more atrocious I could witness, this came from out of the blue and shook me to my very core.

They were already dying. They had already had all hope sucked out their lives...

Why would you kill someone like that? What _more_ could you take from somebody who had nothing _left_ to give?

All those years of my life I had spent waiting for this rebellion, I thought I had imagined every possible move, every possible motive of the Capitols. It turns out I hadn't. Because even I couldn't have predicted that.

To Snow, those people were expendable. He couldn't use someone damaged beyond repair. To us, they were human. They were valuable. And they were just trying to seek a way to survive...

They were us, with non-functioning limbs and diseases that quite possibly kill them. They were so very _alive. _

My thoughts seemed to be going around and around in one circle, all coming back to this idea of humanity, of those people, of life and of living and of being _alive. _Of what it meant and what it could mean, of what purpose it could possibly serve.

Katniss has a similar feeling in her eyes. If Madge would just look up, I am sure it would be there too.

"Katniss." Says Cressada. "President Snow just had them air the bombing live. Then he made an appearance to say this was his way of sending a message to the rebels. What about you? Would you like to say anything to the rebels?"

"Yes." She whispers. Madge looks up from her hands, still on her knees. There is a wild grief in her eyes that goes well beyond tears- so very _far _beyond.

"Yes." Everyone backs away, and I loop an arm around Madge's waist and pull her away, not only because she needs support but because I do, too.

We both listen in absolute silence as Katniss's fury spills over, and she manages to so eloquently put what we were all feeling into words...

I can do nothing but listen in absolute awe, my hand still firmly twined in Madge's.

If we _burned _they would _**burn with**__**us...**_


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's note: I sort of took myself by surprise with this chapter! It amazes me how quickly tension can build up... I was re reading Mockingjay when I couldn't sleep last night (Lord knows how many times that is now! I ****_always_**** cry at the ending. I think the day I don't will be a very sad day indeed!) And I got to the bit where Gale doesn't tell Katniss about the Capitol's Peeta-propo which comes after the rebels air the propos from 8, and I was just thinking, would Madge ever do that in a million years? Here's the answer... **

**Please review if you have time! **

**I don't own the hunger games :)**

Posy runs up, pig tails streaming.

"Madge! Madge! I've finished school and I'm ready for my piano lesson now! You promised to give me to them for yesterday, remember? But I couldn't find you."

I'd completely forgotten about my promise to Posy in the late hours of the night before I went into 8, lost it in the trauma that followed in the daybreak after our bargain was struck.

Gale begins to object. "Posy, Madge has had a really tough day today. She's been in the command this morning and the hospital for most of this afternoon, we went to 8 yesterday, and there's this baby that needs attending to- long story, mum. I don't think now is quite the right time-"

"No it's okay." I cut across him, untangling myself from his arms and holding an ash covered hand out to Posy. "I did promise. Besides, I could do with a distraction this evening. I don't want to think about-" I trailed off, completely losing my train of thought it the flood of memories that followed my words.

Gale grins. "She can at least get a shower first. Right, Posy?"

Posy wrinkled her nose and agreed.

I wash as quickly as possible under the warm water, watching the only remaining evidence of my awful day flow down the drain and out of sight.

Out of sight didn't necessarily mean out of mind.

I didn't know how I hadn't showered since my visit to 8. It was all one big blur. It turned out that my injuries were more serious than first thought, which meant I got to spend a cosy day with Katniss and Finnick before being discharged, going to a huge meeting about propos in command only to go to another 2 hour haul in the hospital so I could be discharged again (This time for real.) Between all that, hygiene hadn't been my top priority. Suppose fires seem to do that to me.

Once my hair was clean (All traces of yet another district crushing fire erased from my person), I dressed in my fresh and only other set of clothes. Sighing at myself in the mirror, I climbed the many stairs that took me back to the Hawthorne's apartment.

"Come and collect her at 8 ish." I tell Gale.

"3 hours?" Asks Gale.

"Why? Do you not think it's enough?" I ask, feigning concern.

"No- just- you're going to play piano for three hours?" He sounds incredulous. I grin.

"See you later."

Posy is in a talkative mood, and I am more than happy to let her chat. Until, that is, the talk turns to how I landed myself in the hospital.

I look down at her sweet little face and wonder if I am seeing into the future. Will I ever know the love that can be life changing and soul destroying all in the same moment? Will I ever be able to guarantee a games free future for a child?

My imagination is filled a moment by a little girl with long blond hair and grey eyes and a boy with blue eyes and dark hair.

I would tell them the truth, the whole truth. I would tell them about freedom, and about every sacrifice made in their name. When they were ready. I'd tell them about a safe, happy future, and all that it had cost to attain. I'd tell them about a world ripped apart by hunger and greed, where nothing was certain, and death seemed imminent to us all. I'd tell them about how black, how evil a mans blood could run. I'd tell them about their grandmother, their grandfather, their Uncle Finnick and Aunt Annie, their Aunty Katniss and Uncle Peeta, their Aunty Johanna, Aunty Prim, Aunty Posy, Uncle Vick and Uncle Rory. I'd tell them about their mother and their father, and all the mistakes they'd made, in the hope that one day they'd never even have to think about making them.

I'd hope it would seem unfathomable to them. A dream, a nightmare, which told of a far off land… I'd hope it would seem like a bedtime story; a horror story, yes, but a story nonetheless.

A story which would never become real. A story which would forever remain a warning. Gradually, it would become old and worn and embroidered and elaborated and exaggerated, until the truth was hardly sure.

Until it died out completely, until people forgot... Until only the best of humanity was left, and the story was no longer needed, and no one had to reminisce- to relive that nightmare of a life.

I hoped, one day, all those lost in the games would be truly laid to rest.

"Madge? Madge, are you listening to me?"

"What- oh, of course. Gale, Katniss and I went to 8, where the war is. I got shot."

"You got shot?" She asks, her eyes wide in wonderment and innocence. Despite myself, I smile.

"Yes, Posy. I got shot."

"Can I tell mummy?" She asked, after a moment of deliberation.

"Yes. That's fine."

She paused a moment, digesting this. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone. I keep your secrets."

I couldn't help myself. I laughed.

It turned out that an evening of piano with Posy was a better tonic than every drug under the sun that hospital could have given me. Little fingers keep me occupied, constant demands for more of my own music delighted me, and her laughter had the power to warm me through and through.

It is with shock I look at the clock on the wall and realize it is ten past eight. Shouldn't Gale be here by now?

I check the little digital clock on my communicuff. Yep, definitely ten past. You can count on the clocks in 13 to be accurate. Punctuality and strict routine is everything here. Understatement of the year, I think to myself with a grim smile.

"Your brother's late." I remark. Posy is still sat at the piano stool, humming a tune to herself as she looks through the book of sheet music I have given her. It's all my scrap pieces, the pieces that 'didn't make the cut' as Fulvia would say, but she seems to find them enchanting.

Confident she is happily absorbed, I flick on the little TV that sits in the corner.

It takes only a fraction of a second to realize what a mistake this was. They must be airing the propos. Memories, fresher and more vivid than any memories have any right to be, surface. Of screaming relative and victims, of rescue teams who have already given the whole thing up for hopeless and yet insist on persevering anyway, of children screaming for help…

But it is only a moment until the screen changes into something much more sinister, in my mind at least.

"No!" I gasp, taking in every inch of Peeta's tortured face, of the pained expression every time he moves. I recall the glowing boy first aired to us all in command.

This boy does not resemble that boy then at all. I am confident that, should he lift his shirt up, I would be able to count every single one of his ribs.

The door bursts open with a resounding bang. Posy jumps, sheets scattering everywhere. Framed in the doorway, he takes in the sight of me (My nose practically pressed up against the TV screen) and Posy (Who has evidently just woken up from the bemused expression on her face. She must have fallen asleep while my back was turned) and sighs.

"We have to tell Katniss." I blurt out. It's the most pressing issue at that moment.

"No." He says.

It's one simple word, but it has my blood boiling in an instant.

"Right. Okay then. Posy, could you wait outside a moment please?"

She hesitates, catches sight of the look on my face, and hops off the chair so she can scamper from the room. I cross the room in three quick strides and slam the door behind her.

"What do you mean, 'NO'? Are you out of your mind? Have you actually taken leave of your senses?"

"Think, Madge!" He exclaims in exasperation. "You'll only hurt her!"

There's something in his eye that tells me there's more to it than that. I run a hand through my hair.

"You speaking as someone with Katniss's best interests at heart there, Gale? Or Coins?"

The wounded look on his face is completely overdone and not at all convincing. "That's completely over the line, Madge! Of course Katniss! You think I care about Coin's stupid plans, all the crazy politics around here?"

"Yes! I do! You're being ridiculous. She's got you eating out of her hand and you are the only one who can't see it! All this politics- see how easily she sacrificed the people of 8 this afternoon? She didn't care. She just wants her propos. She. Just. Wants. To. Win. She's just as bad as Snow, and you're just another one of her unwitting puppets!"

"Now look who's being ridiculous! How the hell was she supposed to save all those people, Madge?" He fires back. "Just because I think one out of the three of us needs to be kept in the loop, know what's going on, does not make me one of her so called 'puppets.' And just because she's at war does not make her president Snow!"

"Alright, give me one reason how keeping that-" I wave a hand at the blank TV screen, my voice now rising considerably. "Will help Katniss, your friend, and I'll consider not telling her!"

He grapples for words a moment. I shake my head.

"I'm off to tell Katniss." I say, my voice returned to its normal pitch and consistency, though the disgust I feel towards him in that moment is evident.

He steps in front of the door, barring my exit. "I won't let you."

"You won't let me?" I'm screaming again. "You WON'T LET ME? News flash, I wasn't asking your permission! Since when did you tell me what I can and can't do? Katniss deserves to know the truth, even if you're too self absorbed to tell her, and nothing you say or do can stop me. So get out of the way of the goddamn door or so help me, Gale Hawthorne, I will rip you limb from limb!"

He steps away, and I sprint out, tears blurring my vision, not even waiting to apologize when I accidentally trip over an extremely bewildered Posy.

I race down the stairs almost ten at a time, mind fixed on the hospital.

Which is why I am extremely bewildered when I find Coin suddenly blocking my path.

"Soldier Undersee. May I have a word?"

All the fight seems to drain out of me, making me want to sag against the wall for support. Gale went running off to Coin... Well, at least that proves my point rather nicely. He wouldn't ever in a million years do that if he had his loyalties straight.

"If you make it quick." I snap, in no mood for niceties.

"Alright then, I will. Soldier Hawthorne just called me, in quite considerable distress, informing me you were about to go and tell Soldier Everdeen about this evenings- Capitol propo. I have to tell you how unwise that would be, given her current-"

A humorless laugh pulls her short. "Don't give me that. You don't care about Katniss any more than Snow ever did. You just don't want her to fall apart, lose her remaining grip on her sanity, before she can perform her part as the mockingjay. You just don't want her questioning you any more than she already does."

She seems to struggle a moment, wondering if she should defend herself. One look into my face tells her the answer.

"Be that as it may, but Soldier Hawthorne speaks as someone with her best interests at heart, and-"

"Does he?" I laugh. "Gale is pretty invested in this war, and your spiel has caused him lose sight of who he is. But I don't buy it."

"Alright." She says, seeming to resign herself to the inevitable. "Alright. If you so blatantly ignore the potential damage you could be doing to your friend by telling her, then fine. I will strike a deal with you. A better bedroom and a new wardrobe for your silence."

I shake my head. "Wow! Bringing our the bug guns!" I let the fake smile slip off my face. "You disgust me."

Honestly, I feel physically repulsed by her offer. How could she think, even for a second, that anything material could dissuade me from what was right? If she thought I was just another of the easy to subdue Capitol mutts she had accidentally-on-purpose rescued, she had another thing coming.

"Alright." She said, blocking my exit, a note of desperation in her voice. "Alright. What do you want?"

"I want you to rescue Peeta and the other victors. Right now, so I know you won't go back on your deal." The answer slips easily from my lips. I hadn't intended to say it, but now it seemed right. Deepest desire. If she agreed to this there might not even be a need to tell Katniss.

She could see for herself...

"I will rescue the victors if there is another appearance-"

I cut her off. "Sounds like a load of empty words to me, so, if you will excuse me."

Holding up her hand, she blocked my passage.

"I will put this in writing, and entrust you with the document to ensure I cannot go back on my promise. And you can keep the baby."

This stops me in my tracks.

"I- I can keep Cyra?"

"Yes." Says Coin, simply. She doesn't beat about the bush, and I'm grateful. My blood pressure is high enough as it is.

Thus far, I am unable to explain the pull the small child has over my heart. Smiling, Coin realizes she's hit her mark.

"I was going to give her to one of the infertile couples. All of them are desperate for children. But if you-"

"I won't tell Katniss." I say immediately. Coin smiles.

"Excellent. Now, allow me to escort you back to your apartment."

Thinking fast, I decide compliance, or at least the appearance of it, may be wise for now. But from that moment on, I don't trust President Coin. She has her own agenda, and I'm determined to know what it is...

And if she thinks for one second I'm not going to tell Katniss, she is going to be desperately disappointed...


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's note: Gingernut the chicken just died. *hysterical sobbing...SHE WAS MY FAVOURITE!* I'm feeling really depressed. So I wrote a depressing chapter. Sorry about that. Review anyway? It'll make me feel better and encourage me to write more cheerful chapters in the future...? **

**I don't own the hunger games *sob, sob, sob***

Gale.

Madge was absent at breakfast, and Posy had a smug sort of look, the way only 5 year olds with no inkling what was going on could.

So far, in exchange for not telling our mother that Madge and I had fought, she had wrangled a trip into the woods, a bed to herself and a bottle of nail polish (All courtesy of command, extensive begging and some bribing.)

Experiencing a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach as I contemplated the lucid pink bottle, I had soon realised it didn't take a genius to figure out what her evil mastermind plan was... Curse Madge and her stupid joke! I wasn't going to be able to look Vick and Rory in the eye for some weeks.

Focusing on my breakfast, which is the predictable muesli and mashed turnips, it takes me a moment to spot that all three of them have entered.

Wheeling Katniss's wheelchair, Madge is in front, with Finnick carrying both their bags, all laughing at some apparently hilarious joke.

Closing my eyes, I try to focus purely on the lump of turnips, but it's hard to swallow. Especially with her standing so close to Finnick.

My mother's eyes are already narrowed quizzically. You can practically sense her puzzlement increasing when Madge gets her tray and sits down quietly in the seat next to Posy. As far away from me as she could possibly get.

"Madge, dear, is everything alright?" Asks my mother.

Madge looks up from her tray, upon which she was concentrating just as fiercely as I was mine, and attempts to smile. "Of course, Hazelle."

Downcast eyes are firmly back in place the moment my mother turns her back. Probing eyes are focused on me now. I gulp, and try to turn my attention to the lump of mush that just refuses to be swallowed.

Posy gives us away. Her giggling travels up and down the table. Katniss snorts into her muesli and has to excuse herself, throwing Finnick a meaningful glance that says 'let's get out of here before it becomes a war zone.'

"Posy?" Says my mother. Vick and Rory look at each other, obviously trying not to laugh.

"Gale told me not to tell!" She bursts out. Madge looks at me for the first time that morning.

There is nothing but blame in her gaze.

"Posy?" My mother repeats. Prim and Rory, sat opposite each other, look at each other and quickly excuse themselves also. Vick, frustrated not to have an alibi now, hails his friend Gregory and tells my mother he's going to be late for class... Ironic in the extremes if you consider classes don't begin for another hour, and he has training first.

"Posy?" My mother repeats, yet again, and the last giggle bursts into speech.

"Madge and Gale had an argument!"

"You know." I say evenly. "I'm not very hungry either. I'll see you all later."

"I just don't see what you could have possibly argued about." My mother says, for the millionth time that day. We're in the bedroom, Rory, Vick and Posy, praise be the lord, no where in sight.

"I told you. Just stuff."

"Oh?" My mother says, picking up and putting down a picture on top of the chest of drawers, an air of agitation about her that is extremely infectious.

"Fine." I snap, sitting bolt upright. I can't stand this. I can't keep one more secret. "You really want to know? We fought because we saw a Capitol show, with Peeta on it, and Madge wanted to tell Katniss."

"What?" Whispers my mother. It's clear that, whatever it was she expected, it wasn't this. From her aghast expression, it looks like I might have just done the impossible.

I might have just rendered her speechless...

"He was- He didn't look good." I gulp, the picture of Peeta floating into my mind. "Madge thought we should tell Katniss because apparently she has a right to know. I thought we shouldn't because she's only just recovered from having him lifted from the arena."

My mother looks at me, her sharp grey eyes seeming to pierce right through me. She knows there's more. "Anything else?"

"I might have spoken to Coin about it."

"And?"

"She might have influenced my opinion a little bit."

"And?"

"And I might have called Coin when Madge ran off to tell Katniss."

"And?"

"That's it, mum." I snap, more than a little defensively.

"Oh Gale." She sighs. Seeing my expression, she sighs. "I'll just leave you to it, then." As she leaves, she brushes my cheek with her hand. "Don't leave it until it's too late."

I turn over on my side and, as I do, catch sight of a picture of me and Madge next to the one of my parent's wedding day. It makes me feel ten times worse.

I hear a little sniffling, and turn over to see Posy standing in the doorway, holding a piece of paper and looking thoroughly miserable.

"What's the matter, Rosy Posy?" I ask, opening my arms. She walks into them without question, curling up next to me on the bed.

"I'm scared you're mad." She whispers, burying her head in my shirt.

If seeing the picture made me feel ten times worse, hearing Posy's emission doubles the feeling a thousand times. Everything seems to be working to that effect today... I stroke her hair.

"Well, you most definitely don't need to worry about your grumpy bear of a brother, because he is really not mad at you." I pull her chin up to face me, and pull a grotesque face, which causes her to giggle in the same mad way that gave her away at breakfast.

"Definitely?" She whispers.

"Definitely." I say. "I'm never, ever mad at you. Remember that."

Pause, as she deliberates. "Then who are you mad at, Gale?"

I sigh. I'm not mad at anyone, not really. Well, that's not true. There is one person I am very, very mad at. Or rather a group of people.

"The Capitol." I answer.

"Should I be mad at Madge?"

"Of course not!" I say. "Why ever would you be mad at Madge?"

"Vick said." She sniffs. "He said I had to choose whose side I was on. He said I had to choose between you and Madge. So I said I picked you."

Understanding is dawning. "Did Vick say I was mad at you, too?"

"Not really. He said you'd be angry if I picked Madge, though."

"Posy, look at me." I said. She does, her grey eyes brimming with tears. "You don't have to pick between me and Madge. We would never, ever make you do that. Madge is your friend too." I pause a moment. "I'm not mad at Madge. So you shouldn't be either."

She smiles, and then a worried expression crosses her face. "Do you think Madge will be mad then?"

"Why would Madge be mad?"

"Because I told her I couldn't be her friend anymore. I told her that I had to choose between her and you, and that you'd be upset if I didn't pick you, and then I didn't talk to her all day."

I am going to kill Vick. Poor Madge... But I have more pressing issues right now. I hug Posy tight.

"Listen. Madge was right and I was wrong, and you have to remember that. Sometimes, we make mistakes. Sometimes, the people we look up to make mistakes, too. Vick was wrong to tell you that you had to choose, and I was wrong to tell you that you couldn't tell anyone, and Madge and I were wrong to let you hear even a little bit of our argument. It's what makes us human, and it's what makes us living. We're not perfect. So do you think you could come with me later, and say sorry to Madge?"

Hesitating for a split second, she nods.

"Good. Now I have to go and speak to Madge on my own. I'll see you later, okay?"

"Wait! Will you take her my picture?" She asks, shoving the piece of paper into my hand. I look at it, and my heart seems to melt right out of my chest.

Three stick men drawn in crayon, labelled 'Madge, Gale and Posy' in careful 5 year old script. I hug Posy.

"I'm sure she'll love it. I'll see you later, okay?"

Heart beating unevenly, I hammer on her door. As she opens it, I see the happy expression that was in place up until that moment just slide right off.

"Oh." She says.

"Do you have company?" I ask, trying to sound polite.

"Just Finnick." She answers.

I can't help it. Jealousy, green and ugly, rears its hand. "Finnick's in there. Alone? With you?"

"Get your head out of the gutter, Hawthorne, or I'll make you." She snaps. "Besides, he was just leaving."

Finnick slips past, seemingly as anxious as me to vacate the scene as quickly as possible. Unfortunately for me, I cannot act on the instinct to flee, as she's ushering me through. She slams the door behind me.

"Are you out of your mind?" She yells. "Getting your sister involved! Do you actually have no limits?"

"Madge, it's not-"

"Oh yes it is! You are not talking your way out of this one! You have completely overstepped the line! You are so far beyond the line right now, you can't even see it! How could you? What the hell were you even thinking?"

Strain is showing on her face, and I see the opportunity to get my point across, and take it.

"I can explain why Posy said- was acting- weird."

Arms crossed tightly across chest, furious expression firmly in place, she demands "So explain then."

"Vick told Posy that she had to choose between us, I don't know why, probably some kind of stupid joke, and she believed him. He told her that I'd be really, really angry if she didn't choose me, or something. I didn't know anything about it until like 5 minutes ago. She's really upset. She drew you a picture."

I hand over the picture, which is slightly crumpled from running to her apartment and the tension of facing her now. Forced to uncross her arms to take the drawing from me, every aspect of her firmly locked persona seems to loosen slightly.

As she catches sight of the crayoned masterpiece, everything about her softens completely, until she's sagging against the wall.

"And- and I'm so sorry. You were right about Katniss, and you were right about Coin. I'm starting to think you have a bit of a habit of being right."

She looks up at me, her eyes, for once, giving nothing away.

"So, we're good?"

Briefly closing her eyes, her voice is barely above a whisper, and dripping with exhaustion. "I don't know, Gale. I mean- I just can't keep doing this. I'm so _tired _of not knowing where I stand with you. I just don't know what to say anymore. And I'm tired of waiting."

"So-"

Her eyes fly open. "So, when you're ready to tell me, whatever the hell it is... I'll be here." She smiles ruefully. "Still waiting. Until I'm old and tired and weary to the bone."

And, with a kiss on the cheek, she sees me out the door...


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note: ****_It's all gone! _**

**Okay, so I should NOT be comparing Madge's situation to me losing my favourite chicken but... OREO IS ALL ALONE! SHE IS THE ONLY ONE WHO HAS A BISCUIT NAME NOW! **

**OK, so I'll shut up. Another short chapter :)**

**I don't own the hunger games. Depressing, I know...**

Madge.

I can't concentrate on anything, not even Posy's fingers moving up and down the piano... It's almost a relief when my communicuff bleeps, announcing that they need me in command.

"Sorry Posy, looks like we're going to have to call it a day." I say.

"You're definitely not mad?"

The expression on her face melts down every defence I have. Thank god Gale is too old to pull off puppy eyes!

"No, Posy, I'm definitely not mad. I was never mad at you anyway." I sigh. "I could never, ever be mad at you."

"That's the same thing Gale said." She whispers.

At the sound of his name, my heart goes into overdrive.

_Well, Gale lies._

That's what I want to say. But I can't, partly because it would be completely hypocritical of me after I exploded at him last night about supposedly manipulating his sister and involving her in our argument, partly because it _would _be completely and utterly, morally and ethically _wrong _for me to even attempt anything like that with Posy.

And there's another part that knows it is both unfair and, for the most part, untrue...

The upbeat music playing in command when I arrive doesn't help my mood. People are feeling optimistic, and who can blame them? The propos were a huge success... But I can't help thinking _at what cost? _Was anything really worth the lives of all those people? All those _children? _

There's an undercurrent to all this excitement, too... Tension, veiled but perceptible nevertheless, is evident in everyone's face. Almost everyone saw the propo involved Peeta, and almost everyone is worried Katniss might have or could potentially see it...

Carefully, oh so _carefully_, I avoid Gale's eye, though I can feel his gaze trained on me...

"So, what's the big emergency? Mockingjay agenda is my best guess." I say.

Coin grimaces. Apparently the sight of me is somehow displeasing? Triggers some sort of unpleasant reaction in her, anyways... Well, so much the better for me, so much the worse for her. Beyond caring, I tap my foot expectantly.

"Yes, we're going into 12, if you're feeling- ah, up to that."

"Yes." I say. In part because I don't want to appear weak in front of her, reveal a chink in my armour, and in part because I really do want to see it. More fuel on the fire in my heart, more reasons to hate the Capitol.

But it's more than that. I want to see the truth of my homes destruction, feel the truth of my parents deaths.

Only then will I truly be able to give up and move on...

"And then I thought we could sign the adoption papers for Cyra. It's just tempory, you understand. A more permanent home will be found after the war."

There is the hint of a warning in her voice. Watching me like a hawk, I realise she's looking for signs that I have gone back on my deal with her. _Go back on your part of the deal and Cyra will be found a __**permanent **__home..._

Smiling to myself, because the loophole was so absurdly easy to find, I answer her unasked question.

"I haven't told _Katniss _about what we discussed, if that's what you mean." I say. She watches me for a moment, looking for any visible signs of lies or deceit in my face, then turns away, satisfied.

It is true that I haven't told _Katniss _anything about seeing Peeta on the screen.

_"Hey." Says Finn, poking his head around my door. "I got a note asking me to come here. Some girl called Madge Undersee, whoever the heck that is?"_

_I grin, and bounce up off the bed. Offering him a seat, I put my feet up and wait for him to initialize a conversation._

_"Okay, so what do you really want to talk about?" He asks, after several minutes chatting about nothing in particular._

_Tears stinging my eyes slightly, I relate the whole sorry tale. Mine and Gale's argument, my confrontation and my eventual deal with Coin, and the dilemma in which I now find myself._

_He gets overly excited when it gets to the bit about Annie, jumping out of his seat in anticipation, a wild look in his eyes as he turns to the door, as if expecting her to walk through the door right there and then..._

_Eventually, he understands what needs to be done._

_"So, what you're saying is, you need someone to tell Katniss for you, so you haven't broken your deal with Coin, but Katniss still gets to know the truth?"_

_"Yes." I said. I smile, because I am really proud of this plan. Not to pat myself on the back or anything, but this plan is fool proof. I tell Finnick, then __**Finnick**__ tells Katniss. Absurdly simplistic, and without a single chance of failing. I haven't gone back on my deal with Coin at all, and it's up to her to fulfil her end of the bargain, just like Finnick said._

_Which is why I'm almost disappointed when he says "Well, sorry to have to break it to you, Strawberry girl, but she already knows."_

_I sigh, in mingled relief and regret, because quite honestly, I'd have wanted her to have the extra couple of minutes of blissful ignorance._

_"How's she taking it?"_

_"Not well. Blaming herself, naturally. She's losing a lot of sleep over Peeta. And she's quite angry that no one's told her..."_

_He loses himself a moment._

_"Then this wasn't a wasted venture after all." I say, partly to remind him I'm still there._

_"No." He grins. "She'll be glad to know there's at least two people completely and utterly on her side. Thanks, Strawberry Girl."_

_Grinning, I pat his hand. "Any time, Trident Guy."_

"So, my guess is you're not talking to Gale either." I say to Katniss, noticing how far away Gale is sat from us _both_, determinedly talking to Cressada.

"No." She says, a positively dangerous look crossing her face. Then she turns to me, and smiles. "Thanks for, you know. You're a really great friend, Madge Undersee."

I squeeze her fingers and smile sadly. "Here for you, Mockingjay."

She grins. "By the way, thanks for the pin. The Capitol probably want your blood for that."

I laugh. "The pin which started it all."

"Sparked an entire revolution, all on it's own." She grins.

"Now, now! You can't blame it all on the pin! You're the girl on fire, the spark which-" I put on a ridiculous Capitol accent. "_If left unattended, could cause an entire inferno._"

Katniss laughs so hard I think she's going to crack a rib. "Not too shabby, for a pin." She laughs.

"I think my Aunt would be pretty proud if she knew." I squeze her fingers. "You're the mockingjay, Katniss. The creature which Panem never intended to exist. Maysilee Donner, and the countless others out there. They're what that pin really symbolises. And they're the real reason we must fight."

"For the people the Capitol never intended to exist." Says Katniss slowly. "But they did, and they do, regardless of whether they survive in flesh and blood or not."

I smile. "Exactly."

It isn't until that moment that I notice the camera rolling.

God I wish my mother could see that moment. Wish my unknown Aunt could, wish they all could. But they, like nearly everyone else, could no more see that piece of flimsy tape than they could rise like a phoenix from our fire ravaged district.

Which is drawing closer. Too close...

Maybe this was a mistake.

There are no flashbacks, not this time. I just stand in the middle of the blackened lump of charcoal, not daring to think, not daring even to breathe...

"Where are we, Madge?" Asks Cressida.

My eyes fly open. "Where are we?" I repeat slowly, the anger just beginning to boil in my veins. "I'll tell you where we are! We're in District 12, scene of some of the most violent bombings ever seen in the history of Panem. This is my _home_." My voice cracks a little on the word, and tears begin to sting my eyes, but I neither acknowledge nor allow for them. "What's left of it. Right over there." I point to the door, and the camera cuts to it. "Is where Katniss and Gale used to stand, when they came to sell me strawberries. Right there is where the piano stood. God how I loved that piano. Over there, there was a dining room table. Here is where Katniss and I used to sit, after she won her first games. She'd come over and we'd talk about everything and nothing. Over there, there was a bookcase. A selection of all my favourites, well worn, practically falling apart at the bindings... I loved the books too, stupid as that seemed. They take on an entire life of their own when they've been as long as those books have. What am I supposed to do now? I can't unburn books... you can replace them. But they'd never be the same. They'd never have been touched by my parents hands, by my grandparents, by my aunts and uncles and other loved ones... If you went up the stairs that used to be here, you'd find a door on your left. That was where my mother used to lie, semi conscious, day in, day out... Just trying to survive, to keep memories of her sister at bay. The same sister who was lost to the second quarter quell. And above here..." I trail off a moment, trying not to remember, yet I can't. Every line of his falsely cheerful, infinitely _kind_ face... "Above here is where my father used to work, day in day out, trying to stop the Capitol from coming down too hard on a district already practically on it's knees. He failed..." I swallow hard against the lump in my throat, and close my eyes again. "He was a wonderful father. A wonderful man. And now he's gone. She's gone. It's gone. It's all gone. All of it... Gone."

The camera cuts, but I am still there, in the ashes of my home, whispering the words over and over like some sort of insane mantra as I rock back and forth...

_All gone, all gone, all gone, all gone, all gone, all gone, all gone, all gone, all gone, all gone, all gone, all gone, all gone, all gone, all gone, all gone, all gone, all gone, all gone..._

_All __**gone.**_


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's note: I taught my sister to sew this evening, which explains my inactivity. It turned out to be a very slow progress, but she is now very good at sewing on buttons... **

**The songs is To Build a Home by Cinematic Orchestra and I think it's beautiful... **

**Review? Please? **

**I don't own the hunger games... :( :( :( **

Gale.

Lying on my bed, I watch a small spider make it's slow way across the roof.

Listlessness. If you looked it up in the dictionary, you'd find me right now. You'd find this exact moment, in which a spider was the only thing interesting enough to occupy my brain, and lying on a bed, trying not to think, was the only thing which I could bring myself to face...

It had been like this ever since Madge told me the other night that she didn't want to _carry on doing this... _I'd been turning over her words, around and around, in my head ever since, and didn't want to do anything else.

Eventually, it became too painful to face, which left me only with spiders.

No right, really, to complain. Looking at Katniss, I was being crazy stupid, languishing in my apartment, thinking about Madge, when she could think of nothing but Peeta languishing in a similar cell somewhere in the Capitol, having god knows what torture inflicted on him.

Hmm... Languishing. What a curious word.

I knew I was being incredibly selfish, not to mention pig headed stubborn. Not to mention completely disregarding my schedule and, by extension, the people of 13. They'd been hospitable enough to take us in when we had no where to go... Blatantly ignoring their rules, as I was now, was downright disrespectful...

But I couldn't concentrate. And this spider was just so darn interesting!

It wasn't true that I'd been like his since Madge had spoken to me the other night... I hadn't. In fact, I'd just carried on as usual, as far as I was able. Wasn't generally in my nature to act as pathetically as I was now. But I was in an odd mood today. Everyone was entitled to them occasionally. And the spider seemed, in that moment, to be my only friend in the world...

Until a piece of paper catches my eye. Little Posy doodles in green and pink crayon decorate the corner, but otherwise it is filled with Madge's slanting, neat script. It's on top of the pink folder Posy usually carried with her everywhere, full of all the pieces Madge has wrote but that didn't make it past the editing process, and are now given to Posy, so all the hard work doesn't go completely to waste...

Deliberating for a moment about whether or not I can be bothered to climb from my comfortable spot on the bed, I eventually decide in the affirmative. Crossing the room in two strides, I seize the bit of paper which, other than the spider, is the only thing so far today which has been capable of both capturing and _holding _my attention...

Though I spotted the beautiful script from the bed, it still manages to make me smile when I see it up close, filling the whole page despite the miniscule size (she's obviously taking her resources a lot more seriously since coming to 13.)

_There is a house built out of stone_

_Wooden floors, walls and window sills_

_Tables and chairs worn by all of the dust_

_This is a place where I don't feel alone_

_This is a place where I feel at home_

_And I built a home_

_For you_

_For me_

_Until it disappeared_

_From me_

_From you_

_And now, it's time to leave and turn to dust_

_Out in the garden where we planted the seeds_

_There is a tree that's old as me_

_Branches were sewn by the colour of green_

_Ground had arose and passed its knees_

_By the cracks of the skin I climbed to the top_

_I climbed the tree to see the world_

_When the gusts came around to blow me down_

_I held on as tightly as you held onto me_

_I held on as tightly as you held onto me_

_And I built a home_

_For you_

_For me_

_Until it disappeared_

_From me_

_From you_

_And now, it's time to leave and turn to dust._

I don't see how it isn't being used. Perhaps it's the piano accompaniment which, admittedly, I haven't heard. It could be anything ranging from soul destroying, chill creating good to soul destroying, chill creating bad... But something, perhaps having heard Madge play before, tells me it is most likely to be the former... Perhaps she just didn't read it like I read it. Perhaps she thought it was no good, instead of some of the most beautiful song writing I had ever seen.

Perhaps, says a small voice, it's about you, and she couldn't face hearing it after the other night...

Don't flatter yourself! Laughs another, louder voice, which speaks like Madge herself. It's quite clearly about the bombings, you dolt! Maybe she just couldn't bear hearing the song anymore after seeing her home for the first proper time after the fire.

Communicuff screaming out its distress, I sigh and fold the piece of paper into quarters, carefully pushing it into my pocket. At least I don't have to go to training.

Scarcely anyone is there when I get to command, for which I am grateful, though my heart does give a jolt to acknowledge Madge's absence. I sit in a deserted seat which is away from almost everyone, and wait.

Oh, and Katniss and I were on again, off again with regards to speaking terms… today, she seats herself next to Finnick, sending me a cheery wave nonetheless.

Madge allows me a tight smile before sitting next to Katniss. Well, if she couldn't sit next to me, at least she's not next to Fi-

No wonder she's not talking to me! God I've made such a mess of all this!

Although, to be honest, I'm not sure whether or not she is talking to me. I think her point was that she needed breathing space- supposedly she wasn't mad, right? _Supposedly_ being the key word…

Perhaps it was time to tell her the truth. The reason I didn't rescue her all those months ago. Let her know how much of a coward I really am...

After all, I promised myself I would, when she arrived, the minute she was recovered enough to handle it. That time came and went. She's still fighting fit, in both a mental and physical sense. The shot to her face seems a very long time ago.

I'll tell her tonight, I promise myself.

So why does the very idea of it make me go cold?

Television flickering into life, I attempt to focus every ounce of energy I have on the Capitol seal, on the blood boiling through my veins.

Peeta Mellark's state has deteriorated even further, if that were even possible. He can't even sit up, for Christ's same! The moment it takes to glance anxiously at Katniss, all traces of the Capitol has disappeared…

People are applauding, but I can feel only numb shock. What the hell happened? What can you possibly do to a person to make them look like that?

It's the battle of the remote control- except nobody's even touching a remote control, and no one has for many years. Before now, there has been no need. The Capitol pressed all the buttons, and you were left powerless to do anything but watch and, supposedly, endure.

This… this is the real definition of an airtime assault.

Finally, they settle on Peeta again, and Snow asks if he has a message for Katniss Everdeen.

Here is a person damaged beyond repair. I can't look at Katniss. Can't bear to see the look on her face.

With what seems to be an enormous amount of effort, he tries to remember what he wants to say.

There is some confusion after it ends. What the hell did he mean? _Dead by morning... In thirteen..._

I am just a second too late in swearing under my breath.

They intend to bomb thirteen!

Coin is thicker than ever, disbelief evident in her voice. Eventually, she sounds the alarm.

Amazingly, no one at all, not the people in command or the ordinary day to day citizens show a single ounce of panic.

It takes me a moment to realize something is amiss. Vick, Rory, Posy, my mum, Madge, Katniss… Mrs Everdeen and Prim finished moving the patients down ages ago, which means…

I run up the stairs, almost losing my footing, searching for the blonde pig tails that stand a mile out, even in thirteen.

I can think of only one place to check... If she isn't there, I'm going to be forced to go back...

Deafening sirens become louder and shriller the further I get towards the surface, towards the Everdeen apartment, and hopefully towards Prim...

But I'm not thinking about that. Perhaps, for the second time, I will be forced to leave someone I love to fight the Capitol on their own in interest of self preservation or cowardice or fear of what I might find.

But it seems my prayers have been answered, for as I skid to a halt outside the apartment, she's just leaving, a howling bundle clamped in her arms.

Inwardly sighing, we both run down the stairs. It's Prim's turn to lose her footing this time. There are so many flights I am almost screaming from the stitch in my side by the time we reach the bottom, only to realize they're already shutting the door.

Katniss is screaming at the guards, but her face breaks into relief as she sees us sprinting towards her.

It's dramatic- and conspicuous. Heads turn our way as we make our quiet way to our compartments, making me feel like some sort of out of place freak show. Suddenly, I realise this is what Katniss must feel like all the time.

Maybe I shouldn't have pressed her so hard on the Mockingjay issue.

"See you later." I whisper, bestowing a small hug on Prim and sending a smile in Katniss's direction. She tries to smile back, but can't. Her mind is occupied by only one man. Peeta.

Until he is returned, there isn't any chance she will be smiling at anyone...

Making my way to my family's bunker, I realise I can't stomach facing everyone, or even just being with people.

There is only one person I want to be with, just like Katniss.

I knock on the door to the bunker with Undersee written on it in scarlet paint.

Madge smiles when she sees me. Perhaps she knows why I've come... Or perhaps, an ever optimistic part of me can't help raising it's voice, perhaps she is honestly pleased to see me…

"Alright, fine." I say. "You really want to know what I was afraid of? You really, really want to know?"

She drops whatever it is she's holding and falls onto the lower bunk as if her legs are no longer capable of supporting her. She puts her head in her hands a second,

"Let's hear it then."

Something about her, and I couldn't for the life of me tell you what... Something about her completely throws me. Every time I looked in her eyes, it made me want to do anything, be anything that she needed... And, put in a situation like this, confronted with her, I just wanted to run and hide...

Reminding myself that it was either this or not speak to her, possibly for the rest of our lives, I ploughed on regardless...

"You doubly sure you want to know?" I ask again. She sighs again, this time impatiently.

"I swear to God, Gale Hawthorne!" It's half a warning, half a promise, and I smiles, because it is 100% Madge...

"I was afraid." I say. The words sound so bad that I sink to the floor by the door, pull my knees up to my chest and put my head in my hands. I close my eyes briefly, hoping for the strength, for the courage... for anything that might help me through this moment.

"Afraid?" Madge whispers, as if it is beyond comprehension.

"Afraid." I confirm. "I was just stood there in front of your house, thinking, I can't lose her. I _cannot lose __**her.**_I wasn't afraid of death, and I wasn't afraid of fire... I was afraid of losing you. I was so certain that I was going to, you see. I was so, so certain that, should I manage to rescue you, you'd end up in the Capitol's hands, that we'd be captured or killed. I couldn't watch you die, and I couldn't let the Capitol take you. And then, there was always the chance I'd get in and you'd already... already be... you know. I couldn't handle that. I couldn't handle my memory of you being contaminated by a broken, burnt, dead girl. As I stood there, the pain hit me, and it was unendurable. The pain of knowing loss and grief, of losing _you. _So I made a choice. A choice that, over the next few days, made me practically suicidal. I just... let you go."

Moments pass that might have been seconds and might have been hours, in which she tries to wrap her head around the phenomenal nature of what I have just told her... Finally, she gets up, and comes to sit beside me.

"What you did, Gale... I'd never have the strength to do. You gave me up, so I wouldn't have to suffer. You were so infinitely selfless in your selfishness. I wish I had your strength, your courage. I don't think, even if you were in the hands of the Capitol, I'd be able to let you die. Death is better, the beautiful promise of nothing, of not having to feel any of this, experience this... What could possibly be better than that? I'd take it away from you, that promise, just so I'd never have to live without you. You'd give me up, so that I could be free. That's the true definition of bravery. The true cost of love." She smiles faintly, and takes my hand. "I love you, Gale Hawthorne. Don't ever forget that. And don't ever let me forget it, either, ever again."


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's note: I know I'm using a lot of songs at the moment. But I love love love Bon Jovi like I love cheese and Oreos and chickens and harry potter and the hunger games, and the lyrics were so applicable it had to be put in!**

**Once again, I don't own the hunger games. I just like playing in them. Though I definitely would not like to play in the hunger games, hunger games****_, _****so to speak!**

Madge.

I sit with my head in Gale's lap, my hand sprinting across the page at break neck speed. Wherever, it's come from, I just don't want it to stop... I've never wrote like this before, so fast and so furious... I guess knowing that it might just help us win this war is at the heart of my sudden work rate increase.

A war of words, and a war of music... At least Rue would be happy.

_This one goes out to the man who mines for miracles_  
_This one goes out to the ones in need_  
_This one goes out to the sinner and the cynical_  
_This ain't about no apology_  
_This road was paved by the hopeless and the hungry_  
_This road was paved by the winds of change_  
_Walking beside the guilty and the innocent_  
_How will you raise your hand when they call your name?_  
_We weren't born to follow_  
_Come on and get up off your knees_  
_When life is a bitter pill to swallow_  
_You gotta hold on to what you believe_  
_Believe that the sun will shine tomorrow_  
_And that your saints and sinners bleed_  
_We weren't born to follow_  
_You gotta stand up for what you believe_  
_Let me hear you say yeah, yeah, yeah, oh yeah_  
_This one's about anyone who does it differently_  
_This one's about the one who cusses and spits_  
_This ain't about our livin' in a fantasy_  
_This ain't about givin' up or givin' in_  
_We weren't born to follow_  
_Come on and get up off your knees_  
_When life is a bitter pill to swallow_  
_You gotta hold on to what you believe_  
_Believe that the sun will shine tomorrow_  
_And that your saints and sinners bleed_  
_We weren't born to follow_  
_You gotta stand up for what you believe_  
_We weren't born to follow_  
_Come on and get up off your knees_  
_When life is a bitter pill to swallow_  
_You gotta hold on to what you believe_  
_Believe that the sun will shine tomorrow_  
_And that your saints and sinners bleed_  
_We weren't born to follow_  
_You gotta stand up for what you believe_  
_We weren't born to follow _  
_We weren't born to follow_

I stop, and Gale yanks it out of my hand. "It's not very good!" I begin to protest, but his eyes are already scanning the paper, taking in the words. I bite my lip and subside into anxious silence.

Face breaking into a huge grin, he positively beams at me. "It's brilliant! You need to stop putting yourself down, and start realising what amazing stuff you're coming up with! Speaking of which-" he reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a slightly crumpled piece of paper. I narrow my eyes, taking in what is clearly a piece of my discarded sheet music...

"This is amazing." he says, sincerity apparent in every word which falls from his lips.

Taking it from his hands, I carefully smooth it out and realise immediately which one it is... Tears pool in my eyes. Tangling his hands in my hair, he presses his lips gently against my forehead, and waits for me to explain.

"I couldn't play it after yesterday- it seemed so real."

"I know." He whispers. "That's why you have to play it, Madge. You have to make it real for people. Because it happened, and it can't ever be taken back. All we can do now is make sure there's hell to pay for the culprits..."

Sighing, I nod. "I know your right. I just- can't. But I will. Honour the dead and all that. Make them proud."

The piece of paper has reminded me of something, but I can't put my finger on what...

Until I do.

Leaping up out of Gale's lap, I smack a hand to my forehead. Gale looks as if he's expecting me to announce President Snow himself is about to pay us a little visit for scones and a cup of tea, and I just conveniently forgot to mention.

"Mine and Coin's bargain! I completely- just slipped my mind- but- the other victors!" I was talking incredibly fast, and it takes a moment for Gale to process, but I can tell the minute he does. Leaping from his chair with just as much, if not more enthusiasm, he grabs my hands.

"We need to go tell Katniss! Right now!"

Hesitating as the unwelcome reality sets in, I sigh and sit down. Yet another bomb rocks the bunker.

"We can't go just yet." I sigh.

"Why not?" He demands, still caught up in the wonder of my revelation, and what it could mean for all of us.

"Well-" I say, grin spreading back across my face. "It may have escaped your attention, but we're sort of under attack right now."

We laugh like lunatics for almost the entire evening.

We have to wait three days until we're released. _Three_ torturous days of waiting underground, of feeling the bombs rock the bunker and impatient feet in other compartments rock the entire unit almost as hard...

Growing up in district 12, I've never liked being underground... Who hasn't seen the victims? The burns and the lost limbs and the men blown into so many pieces they can't even find a single piece...

I endure it because I have to.

Ironically Gale, who has actually been in the mines and experienced first hand the devastation they can bring, seems perfectly at home, comfortable and calm, remarking on the remarkably of the structure and safety of our bunker. It doesn't do much to assure me, and I'm not entirely sure that he believes it either.

Finally, we are released.

There is only one word that could possibly describe Katniss, and that is breaking. If I had a magnifying glass, and held it up to her face, I swear I would be able to see little cracks appearing... Tearing her apart, piece by piece...

Which means only one thing. She's discovered the one thing which everyone prayed she would not, the one thing I hoped against hope she wouldn't... The only thing I have kept from her, because what use is it really? It's handed Snow the very weapon he wants most of all in the world, and Katniss, the key to her destruction...

We are pulled out of line and taken up to special defence, so Coin can brief us...

"We need all five of you suited up and above ground." She goes on to explain how she wants us to get some footage showing the damage done and that, most of all, Katniss is alive.

I down the coffee in one, allow them to slap the distasteful make up all over me (more obediently than I usually would), and follow Katniss outside, again without protest. I'm too exhausted, too dejected, too confused to even think of raising an objection to anything...

Fatigue forces me to lose track of the conversation for a while, until I spot the roses strewn on the ground.

I know exactly what they are and what they are well before I hear Katniss's exclamation...

_It was my seventeenth birthday. The worst of my life. I can see the fear in my father's eyes, the fear that I will not come back._

_Snow himself has asked to see me, to 'wish a happy birthday to the flower of district 12.' Whatever it means, whatever special code it is, it does not spell good news... Perhaps it even spells out the obituary at my funeral._

_My father looks as if he's on the verge of some kind of mental break down. My mother hasn't even been told. I allow them to pull at my hair, slap foul, artificial smelling mixtures all over me, for once without complaint._

_Heart beating so fast I fear it might explode, I ascend the steps to the rose garden which may just be the scene of my death._

_Snow is waiting, holding garden sheers. For one moment of pure terror, I think he's going to use them to murder me... Until sense catches up and I realise a gun would be more effective._

_I curtsy low before him, the fear I feel now irrepressible. He steers my chin so I am looking directly into his unforgiving eyes..._

_"Good morning, Miss Undersee. You're looking as lovely as ever."_

_I don't know where my voice comes from. "And you, sir." I incline my head. "Forgive me, but, why have you-"_

_"Asked to see you?" He asks, his voice dripping with dangerous. The reckless bravery seems like stupidity. Maybe it always was a blend of both. "Yes, quite right. Let's speak plainly. I wanted to talk to you about your friend, Miss Everdeen."_

_"Katniss?" I ask, somewhat blankly._

_"Yes. Katniss. About her pin, more specifically." He waits, and watches, observing the flickering of my facial expressions. "Now, my dear, I know you had no idea what you were doing. But any more __**rebellious**__, shall we say? Yes, rebellious suits the circumstance well. Rebellious gifts and my hand may just... slip whilst holding poison."_

_"You wish to kill me, sir?"_

_"Oh, no, Madge, not you! Never you! To never have reached ones eighteenth birthday... No, no. I was speaking of someone who has already suffered at the hand of poison."_

_"My mother." I whisper. It is not a question, but he answers it anyway._

_"Yes. Your mother. Now, if you will excuse me, I have my gardens to attend to."_

_I curtsy again, feeling as if I should faint, or have a heart attack. Perhaps both. Either way, I am anxious to get out of there as quickly as possible._

_"Oh, Madge?" He calls after me. I turn. He plucks a pure white rose, and hands it to me._

_"Happy birthday." he says, in a voice that is practically dripping with scarcely concealed threats. _

Eventually, due to a combination of Katniss's return to her previous awful performance level and my reproachful glances, ever reminding her of the deal we struck, Coin relents.

She will rescue **all **the victors.

Sitting with Finnick as he waits, foot tapping out an impatient rhythm, I realise there is nothing better I could have asked for than this. Because it will benefit so many people.

Annie will be reunited with the love of her life, and Finnick won't have to tie knots anymore... Peeta will be given back the girl he worked so hard to protect, and Katniss won't be falling apart at the seams anymore. Johanna will... what?

_I'm not like you. There's no one left I love._

That's what she'd said, in the Quarter Quell... The girl who witnessed and experienced the very worst of humanity, had her childhood so brutally stripped away, who was nothing, could be nothing... Because everything she had in the world was gone.

Johanna Mason. The girl the world turned it's back on.

Johanna will be safe, I tell myself. Johanna will be able to heal. And maybe, just maybe, she can learn to live again.

Johanna was proof, unquestionable proof, that whatever the world threw at you... You could still fight. And you could still win. That the way we're defined isn't the same way we think we are. That we are not defined by the people we love, or even our capacity to love itself, but by the way we deal with love when it is taken away in the most brutal of manners...

That's what I think about, every time I see her face.

Gale has gone with them, to try and rescue them. If he doesn't come back... My breath catches in my throat...

They wouldn't let me come. Apparently, I'm 'mentally unhinged'. Ha ha ha. More like a nutty as a peanut butter and jelly sandwhich... which I actually wouldn't know about since I'm allergic.

Actually, it's more like Gale swung them all in his favour, made them see it from his point of view. He's good at that. Didn't want me exposed to anything too high risk. Bribed or black mailed or something while I was preoccupied with trying to calm Katniss down enough to get a coherent word out of her, to prevent them jabbing yet another drug in her arm...

Didn't work, anyway. And now I'm stuck here, Katniss joining our silent vigil, with nothing but bitter thoughts and worry for company...

I count how many times I can say it in my head as Finnick taps out an impatient rythm on the hospital floor...

_Today I could lose him, today I could lose him, today I could lose him..._

I can't stand it. So I do what I do every time my thoughts get stuck in such a miserable direction and I just can't shake it...

I turn to my piano.

Dragging Katniss and Finnick with me, I try to engage them with the music... No one is fooled, and no one is really interested. Which is why we all listen in uncharacteristic absorption as my impatient fingers tap out the unfamiliar yet strangely comforting music, each note marking the passing of another second, another minute...

Another moment of waiting, of not knowing, either way...

_What will I do, if __**he **__doesn't come back?_

_Stop!_

_What?_

_Rewind._

It is all I can do, all I can think, as my fingers move of their own accord, and Finnick and Katniss's glazed eyes stare into space...

All our thoughts channelled in the same direction...

Would there after be a life available, if I were to lose Gale? What would I do? Where would I go? Would I ever have the strength of Johanna, or the courage of Gale, or the common sense of Finnick, or the stubbornness of Katniss?

Katniss stands up, quite suddenly, and my fingers slide off the keys. Dropping forward in shock, my chin catches the dark wood, and I feel pain shoot up my jaw.

"We have to do something!" Katniss exclaims, running from the room. And when she comes back, there is a full crew, cameras at the ready.

My music playing in the background, Katniss tells the story of the first time she and Peeta met.

My music fits perfectly with her story, with the emotion so strong in her eyes, and the almost musical wavering of her voice. She's telling the truth. The absolute truth. And that's where the magic lies.

"Alright, Madge." Says Cressada, suddenly. Scarcely even registering that Katniss has finished, it is with shock that I realise she is indeed talking to me.

"Me?" I ask, just to clarify.

"Yes, you." Laughs Cressada. "Any stories for Snow?"

"A thousand." I tell her, with a smile, because for once I know what I am going to say. "I collect stories the same way Finnnick collects secrets. But just one comes to mind. And it isn't mine to tell."

"Whose is it?" She asks.

I look at Haymitch Abernathy, who is skulking on the edge. Gaze snapping up, it suddenly dawns on him.

"Maysilee Donner's."


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's note: The song is Hope by Emeli Sande, and I'm a tad obsessed. **

**I am currently reading Percy Jackson, Midsummer Nights Dream and Her Beautiful Symmetry (Same author as The Time Traveller's wife) all at the same time. Just thought I'd share with you lovely people :) It's an odd mix, but surprisingly good. **

**Unfortunately, I have a bad cold and was suffering from writers block until a couple of hours ago. Another interesting combination, though not one I could say I recommended. However, I got to stand at the front of my Physics class on one leg because I forgot about some homework, which has kept me in a very good mood ever since. I was just stood at the front of the class giggling... Anyway. Stop talking now and get on with the story. **

**So here it is. I do not own the Hunger Games. **

Gale.

All I could think of as I belted myself in was Madge, and that I might never see her again. Might never hear her voice, see her smile- Stupid, dangerous thoughts, I reprimanded myself. I couldn't afford to think like that...

Not where I was going.

I try to focus on what Plutarch is saying, even though he lost me a while ago...

Getting in is a problem. Obviously we can't come in by helicopter- they'd spot us hours before we reached our destination, making it more of a suicide mission than a rescue mission. On foot isn't really possible, either- we're all too easily recognisable, not to mention lacking the misguided fashion statements the people of the Capitol insist on, not knowing how much they repulse us in the districts.

If getting in was hard, getting out was going to be even harder. It involved several high tech distractions, nearly all of which involved explosives or gas similar to the ones we would use to distract them when we got in, an underground network which sounded entirely too risky for my liking when I considered it was build by Snow himself, and some sort of boycott in the city centre... It was so difficult to follow that eventually I just stopped trying...

In the end, to get us in, it was decided that the rebels 'Capitol spies' would smuggle us in using black government cars, conspicuous but never arising suspicion. No borderline patrol officer would ever dare question anybody behind the wheel of one of those cars, even if it was Coin or Katniss themselves... That's the theory anyway, and it's about to be tested.

The people of thirteen, I decided long ago, are completely obsessed with schedules. Here, for example, is the one they've given me to memorize, before it shall be set alight, in exactly 2 minutes 32 seconds, according to the clock up on the wall of the headquarters in 1.

_11:45 am- burn schedules_

_11:46 am- Helicopter takes Soldiers to the Capitol border, as close as they can get._

_11:48 am- Government officials pick up Soldiers._

_11:50 am- Stagger cars arrivals (there was a separate schedule for this!)_

_12:13 am- First explosion goes off, in the East Wing of Snow's mansion_

_12:15 am- Second explosion goes off, across town in the West Wing of the third parliament building_

_12:21 am- Set off poisonous gas through ventilation in building C._

_12:23 am- Rescuers climb into prisoner's cells via ventilation._

_12:36 am- Smuggle prisoner's out of building using tranquilliser shots and offensive weapons if necessary._

_12:44 am- Drive back out via underground network._

_13:15 am- Get helicopter from District 3 back to District 13._

There was a separate sheet for the times the cars would be leaving the border and arriving, and another besides even that one which dictated the times for the various explosions and gas attacks that counted as distractions...

Snow may be a dictator, but the clock was a military leader of a whole new level. As everyone sat, virtually in silence, it seemed to me that the large red hands of the clock were ticking away the seconds to my destruction, taunting me. There is nothing you can do to stop me moving. No way you can freeze time. Everyone who tries has failed, and everyone who thinks about it too much succumbs to the insanity...

The truth was I wouldn't have wanted to freeze time even if I could. Madge wasn't here. If I died, I died. There wasn't much I could do about it. If death really was coming for me, and I'd managed to evade death enough times to know that it was more than feasible that this might be my last day on earth, I'd much rather he came quickly.

So in truth, all I really wanted was for time to speed up.

My only part in the rescue mission would be as one of the 'Rescuers', namely Peeta's. I would be smuggling him out of the prison.

Extreme apprehension and reluctance was all I seemed to be able to feel for the time being- not because I had any qualms about rescuing him. Contrary, for Katniss's sake, I wanted it more than anything else in the world. It was just that, confused as he was at the moment, I doubted the sight of me would raise many pleasant memories.

Bewildered, tortured and disoriented... The memory of my resentful looks and glowering at him whilst helping him to train, and whatever other recollections he may have of me (none of which, I could guarantee, would be very pleasant), on top of everything he was going through, was the last thing he deserved.

But there was nothing I could do about all of that now. All that I had to do now was wait and watch as the plan unfolded until it was time to play my part.

Surprisingly, stage one of the plan comes off without a hitch. Climbing into the back of the Capitol car with its tinted windows and sleek design, all I can think of is how unfortunate for them it was that, with such self importance, they designed their cars with tinted window...

The car rolled through the Capitol. Despite myself, I couldn't help looking around in interest at the hard on the eye bright colours the Capitol seemed to be built of. It was, after all, the first time I had stepped out of the districts. In fact, until two months ago, I had never even strayed further than the woods.

Capitol people all stepped aside as the cars rolled passed, showing them a kind of reverence I couldn't understand. Fascination with cars had never been something I could appreciate, no matter how hard I tried. Perhaps that was what came from growing up in District 12, where the fastest ride you could get was on the back of our ancient wagon, and even that was considered high tech.

There were two other rescuers, one for Annie Cresta and one for Johanna Mason, but they weren't talking very much. Their lips moved soundlessly over and over, reciting some kind of mantra of what they had to do.

Eventually, we came to the back of the prison. Our schedules had already prepared us for what we had to do. We had a wait of at least 10 minutes before we were all cleared to do it, however.

Crouching in the ditch next to the other two rescuers, I put a hand in my pocket to get out the little ear piece I had forgotten to put on in the car.

My fingers closed mechanically around the cold metal device, but as they did so, encountered the smooth edge of a piece of folded paper crinkling beneath my touch. I unfolded it slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible.

As soon as I saw the slanted writing in black ink, hastily scribbled, I knew what it was. I smiled.

I could almost see her writing this in the control room, nose an inch from the paper, pen whizzing so fast she'd get a perfect smattering of black ink in perfect formation on her nose. I pictured her folding it into careful pieces, halving and quartering as precisely as she was able as her fingers trembled violently.

For a fraction of a second, she'd close her eyes and lean her forehead against the cool metal of the walls. Her eyes would close briefly as she searched desperately for the strength to do what had to be done, in the way she only did when she was so desperate she felt she had no where else to turn to but inwards.

Opening her eyes and straightening up, she'd run a hand through her hair, the unruly curls escaping the tight binding at the base of her neck. She'd hold the folded square of paper against her lips, and whisper a wish to the deserted room, before crossing the white floor with the sound of her shoes echoing off the harsh, bleak looking metal walls...

She'd look carefully at each name tag, her lips forming the names, before smiling in triumph as she reached mine. Finger stilled to a motion that to others would suggest calm, but to me would suggest defeat, she put the piece of paper in my back pocket. Task completed, she'd flee the room as quickly as she possibly could, the wind carrying her silent prayer back to me...

Picture fading now, desperate to cling to something, _anything _that was her, I turned my attention onto the words written on the page...

_I hope that the world stops raining_  
_Stops turning it's back on the young_  
_See nobody here is blameless_  
_I hope that we can fix all that we've done_  
_I really hope Martin can see this_  
_I hope that we still have a dream_  
_I'm hoping that change isn't hopeless_  
_I'm hoping to start it with me_  
_I just hope I'm not the only one_  
_I just hope I'm not the only one_

_I hope we start seeing forever_  
_Instead of what we can gain in a day_  
_I hope we start seeing each other_  
_Cause don't we all bleed the same_  
_I really hope someone can hear me_  
_That a child doesn't bear the weight of a gun_  
_I find the voice within me_  
_To scream at the top of my lungs_  
_I just hope I'm not the only one_  
_I just hope I'm not the only one_

_Louder, I cannot hear you_  
_How can things be better left unsaid_  
_Call me, call me a dreamer_  
_But it seems like dreams are all that we've got left_

_I hope we still have a heartbeat_  
_I hope we don't turn to stone_  
_A night when you turn the lights off_  
_I hope you don't cry alone_  
_I hope we stop taking for granted_  
_All of the land and all of the sea_  
_I'm taking a chance on loving_  
_I hope that you take it with me_  
_I just hope I'm not the only one_  
_I just hope I'm not the only one_  
_I just hope I'm not the only one_

There couldn't possibly be a question of a doubt about what happened next. Not after reading that.

I HAD to come home.

Newly installed earpieces sparked into life, Plutarch's voice as clear and as vivid as if he was standing right next to me. One by one, we climbed into the ventilation shoots that would lead to the separate cells.

My earpiece had gone quiet, which I took to be a good sign. However, I kept my gun loaded and at the ready, pointed in front of me.

I _hated _confined spaces. Had done ever since I was fourteen years old, and my father died in that mining accident which left the entire District reeling in shock.

Ever since, spaces like the one I found myself in now made me feel trapped, as if I was going to be attacked or squashed or blown up or all three at once.

The night after the beginning of my career in the mines, I had cried myself to sleep. Almost as if I was the fourteen year old boy who had lost his father all over again.

So few people ever saw that side to me. No one but select through ever saw through the façade I put on, saw the vulnerability I was so successful in hiding. No one but Madge, it would seem. Everyone else just saw whatever I wanted them to see.

That was what I liked best about her. She saw the good and the bad in every single person, perceived it so clearly they may as well have shouted it in her face, and then went ahead and loved them anyway.

"Keep going Gale, your almost there!" Plutarch's voice sounds in my ear, as anxious as it is encouraging, making my jumped. So wrapped up in my own thoughts, I had barely even noticed where I was going or what I was doing.

I lifted off the hatch and jumped into Peeta's cell, landing lightly on the balls of my feet.

Looking up in mingled shock and terror, he flinched away.

The smell was so terrible I felt tempted to turn and flee. It was the kind of stench that came from someone who hadn't washed in months and had been bathing in a mixture of mud, blood and sewage.

If the smell was bad, however, Peeta Mellark was worse. Every bone looked as if it were about to snap under pressure, as if it were going to tear through his skin... His skin was the colour of old porridge, and he was covered in sores oozing pus and scars which ranged from days to weeks old. Bruises flourished on the pale skin. He looked faded, broken. Everything about him was almost transparent and worn, even his eyes no longer looked blue, his hair no longer the goldy coloured blond that was the same as Madge's. He looked up at me through eyelashes, eyes practically rolling back in his head as he tried to concentrate on me.

He staggered to his feet.

"You." His voice sounded like it should be brimming with anger and hate, but it came across reedy and weak, worn and fading just like the rest of him. Leg twitching, he staggered forward as if he were drunk.

All thought of what I was supposed to be doing had faded from my mind. As I floundered, trying to remember, he made a more desperate effort to speak.

"Do it then! End it!" And then, without warning, he screeched. "End it, you mutt!"

A feeble fist came into contact with the left of my face, and, without meaning to, I stabbed the hand which was being brought down upon me.

Peeta fainted, shot with the tranquiliser meant for the guards, should we encounter any.

Perhaps the unconscious act had been a stoke of genius. Mind springing into action, I hoisted him over my shoulder and sprinted out of the cell, helped by the foul smell which seemed to physically drive me away.

I only had one floor to go by the time Plutarch's urgent voice was sounding in my ears again.

"Gale, get out of there, now! They're onto us!"

In the same instant, a guard appeared in front of me. Without thinking, I shot him, and a bullet ripped through his gut. But he brought friends.

The exit was so close... I fought my way through, the metallic taste of blood flooding my mouth and invading every sense I had.

Whistling filled my ears. It was the only warning I got before I felt a large something lodge in my shoulder- luckily for me, the one opposite to the one carrying Peeta.

Pain ripped through me, tearing me in half. By now, rebel forces had joined me, overwhelming the guards. All I had to do was get Peeta into the open, where a car would be waiting for us, ready to get us out of this insane, evil city through the legendary underground network which I had so distrusted when I first heard of it, but now sounded like my only method of escape...

As I raced towards the sunlight faster than I had ever ran in my life, her face was the only one I could see.


	20. Chapter 20

**Review, maybe? I'm pathetically self conscious about my stories. Like some people are self conscious about their hair or glasses or braces or something. Thankfully, I've never been too bothered on that score. I love my glasses. I'm just scared this storyline is boring you all to tears, although why you'd bother reading it if it were, I don't know. If it is, please don't bother. I'd hate you to have to read it because you felt like you had to or something. Or review. You'd make me really happy :)**

Madge.

Haymitch is watching me with incredulous eyes. After a moment, he nods resignedly, and turns away, as if he cannot bear to watch.

And so I tell the story that no living being but Gale and I know. The story of my mother and her twin, of her private hell, and the case of mistaken identity which proved to be the balm she needed to heal... If only for a couple of days.

I look up into the camera. "Maysilee Donner helped to spark this rebellion, even if she did it long after her death. I think she'd have liked to see it. I think there are a lot of dead children that would, children who quite simply should _not _be dead. Which is why we must fight. Why there cannot be a ceasefire. We must see it all, must be there to witness the Capitol's fall. For them. For Maysilee Donner, and all the others like her."

It isn't riveting, like Katniss's story. Perhaps a few people out there already knew the story of my mother and of Maysilee Donner. And perhaps I've mentioned her in front of the cameras before. But I've needed to tell the story- the whole story- for a long time.

Maysilee Donner long ago became some sort of talisman for me. She burns inside of me long after she is gone, fueling my need to fight and my desire to experience every joy and every sorrow this world has to offer.

Besides, if telling that story helps even a little in getting them out of the Capitol, then I could die happy tomorrow.

Not that I want that to happen. In fact, it is the thing I constantly dread above all others. That I won't wake up tomorrow.

Which is part of the reason I have to tell this story _today. _

There are so many different kinds of truths. Beautiful truths, sad truths, truths that have the ability to shake you to your very core, truths, even, that have the power to make you forget who you are or who you may be.

But, in the end, the truth is the truth. You can't argue with it or disprove it or get rid of it. And you can be certain that you'd rather know the truth than listen to the lies.

There is no context in which I believe lying, even lying by omission, is acceptable for a free person. Someone who isn't being held in a cell in the Capitol so the truth can be tortured out of them, that is.

That's when the camera is turned on Finnick, and there comes another truth. A truth which, in this case, falls under the category of coming out of the blue and shaking me to my very core, and makes me think maybe I was wrong about the truth, that I was lying to myself all along.

Because some truths quite simply aren't _meant _to be told.

I had been acutely aware of Plutarch and Haymitch arguing in the corner whilst I was talking, but I hadn't been paying much attention, too caught up in the telling of my story.

Now I knew why.

Perhaps the truth Finnick told didn't shake me up as much as it did everyone else, because I already had part of the truth. I'd thought I'd known the whole story.

As it turned out, however, I didn't. And knowing only part of the truth is the same as not knowing any of the truth at all.

Once I knew it, I wished I could wash it away.

I stare at Finnick as he tells his story, completely riveted. I can't seem to look away. The boy I first met when I was four had never seemed further away than he did in that moment. And maybe I felt more like that four year old than I had done in a long time, watching the pain flash in his eyes and the words pour from his mouth.

After they have finished filming, there is nothing to do but wait. Following Finnick's story, I don't know what to do, what to say, how to act...

I exchange a look with Katniss. Everything about Finnick tells us both not to say anything. I try to distract everyone with the piano, but can't. We try knots, but my rope burned fingers do nothing to distract me anymore than my musical ones did. In the end, we all sink down by the wall, side by side, just waiting...

It is the most torturous wait of my life. I keep thinking of various ugly scenarios... Telling myself to stop, then a new minute passes bringing with it a new horrifying thought. At 12 minutes past I wonder absently whether Gale has found the song in his back pocket. At 13 minutes past, I attempt to keep my thoughts away from that direction by humming the song under my breath. At 14 minutes past, Katniss joins in. At 15 minutes past, Finnick asks us both to stop. At 16 minutes past, they come in and ask if we want food. At 17 minutes past, Finnick takes both of our hands, as if assuring himself we're still there. At 17 minutes past, I find the button which had been all that stood between me and insanity in the long months of thinking Gale was dead. At 18 minutes past, I have to stop myself bursting into tears.

And so the minutes pass, dragging into hours.

By the time Haymitch opens the door to tell us they're back and we're wanted in the hospital, a thousand years seems to have passed.

I leap out of my chair. Katniss seems to share my enthusiasm, but Finnick has turned numb. His steps are slow and halting, as if unsure if he really wants to leave.

Sighing, I take the arm opposite to the one Katniss has, and lead him out the door.

The hospital is bustling. Nearly falling over as a hospital bed is wheeled in front of me, I give a gasp of surprise, stomach plummeting.

Johanna moans. I note her shaven head, the pus covered scabs, deep gashes all over her body. A bruise coloured rainbow flowers all over her ash coloured skin. There are so many injuries I don't have time to note them all before she is wheeled out of sight, something between a whimper and a scream caught on its way from my throat to my mouth.

Another door bangs open, and I catch sight of Gale. Glistening with sweat, teeth gritted in pain, his shirt lying nearby on the floor. I barge through the door before the nurses can stop me or even register my sudden appearance in their midst.

"Move." I tell the doctor seeing to the bit of something lodged in his shoulder. I fling on an overcoat and some gloves, picking up the instrument on the silver tray.

The doctor is startled, but recognises me. I am the girl who helps out in the operating room sometimes. I know what I am doing.

"Go!" I tell him. "They need every doctor they can get. This is just a flesh wound."

Gale's eyes feast on my face, taking in every inch of me as if he's been told it is the last time he'll ever get to see me.

"Just a flesh wound?" He manages to get out through gritted teeth, teasing irony heavily evident even through the pain.

Smiling weakly, I try to clean out the wound as tenderly as possible.

"Just a flesh wound." I whisper. "It- it might sting a little."

"Sting a little." He laughs as he gasps in pain. I run a hand through his hair to do I don't know what- assure him or assure me.

The fact of it was, it was wholly different if it was someone who you knew. Someone you loved.

Just as I am in the process of working out how to get the shrapnel out without it bleeding him to death (it's lodged in really deep) there comes a knock at the door.

Gale gives a gut wrenching muffled scream. I look up, the escaped curls brushing against his cheek. Boggs stands there, a grave sort of look on his face. I sigh.

"Can't it wait?" I ask, knowing the answer long before the question even forms.

"No." Answer Boggs. "Unless you'd rather Katniss lose whatever shred of sanity she has left."

The noise which escapes me next is somewhere between a sigh and a groan, the scalpel I was holding clattering to the floor.

"What- but I thought Peeta-" I take a steadying breath. "I thought Peeta got out fine."

Please let him be alright. Please don't let him be dead. It'd all be for nothing if he were dead.

Katniss would probably die if he were dead.

I couldn't deal with that. I knew this much in that moment.

"Yes. And no. He's been hijacked."

A low groan escapes me to match Gale's. Barely thinking about what I am doing, I smash a red button on the wall with my fist. Gale needs medical attention. Katniss needs the attention of a friend.

I've never known Peeta Mellark particularly well. But I have always respected him. For the chalk drawings along the pavement in town and for the gentle way in which he treated all living creatures. But nothing he has done has earnt my respect more than the way he cared for and protected Katniss during their games and in all the bits in between.

So I suppose I owe him quite a debt. Not just because of my best friend's survival- that is just part of the debt, though admittedly not one I could ever hope to repay.

Because without him, I wouldn't even be getting this chance at revenge. Revenge on the people who killed my parents, who took away my best friend, who nearly killed my boyfriend. There is nothing more in the world that I would have wanted, should I have thought to ask.

Most likely Gale is not even coherent at this moment. Doesn't even realise what's going on. But as the doctor comes in, I place a soft kiss on his forehead, and run a hand through his hair. Closing my eyes briefly, trying to find the strength to walk away, I turn to the doctor.

He is a worn looking man who I recognise immediately as Doctor Beaumount-Scott- one of the only doctors from the Capitol. Before I put it down, I point the blood covered scalpel at him. He winces away from me, as if he believes I really would run him through with the two inch long bit of metal. I sigh inwardly. Whatever I would do if Gale really did die, I don't know, but it isn't that.

"He dies, you die. Got that?" I ask. He nods urgently, as if he wants nothing more than to get that scalpel out of his face. Grimly, I allow him a small smile, and leave with Boggs, who is smirking.

"Was that really necessary?" He almost laughs.

I shrug. "Made me feel better."

He smiles slightly. "Then I guess it was."

Without another word, I take the seat on Katniss's other side, gaze locked with Prim's. Tolerantly, I listen to the empty words Beetee, Plutarch and Boggs have to offer, Prim's urgent questions and Haymitch's dejected but truthful answer. I can't be bothered with any of them. I just sit and hold Katniss's hand.

I can't afford to stay. I have to go and pick up Cyra from the daycare centre here for parents with essential work to do.

There is something comforting about holding Cyra- something which, almost, makes me forget. It isn't any wonder I want to get away from the hospital. The stink of cleaning liquids, blood and despair.

The nurse who watches the children places Cyra carefully in my arms. I feel flooded with her warmth wherever she touches me, my mind fogging over slightly with the remarkable nature of the small child held against my chest. The bittersweet mixture of regret for her mother and joy for her life sweeps over me, as it always does.

"Hey there sweetheart." I whisper, holding her against my cheek. "You're growing big. Why don't we do something exciting this evening? We'll go visit Aunty Posy."

Everyone is categorised thus. I didn't want her life to be a lie. I'm Aunty Madge, and then there's Uncle Gale, Aunty Katniss, Aunty Prim, Uncle Vick and Uncle Rory... The list goes on. The child has an entire army of doting loved ones, even if her own family is long gone.

Cyra looks peaceful in Posy's arms, and there is a look of wonderment on Posy's face as she looks upon Cyra.

"Her eyes are so blue. Like yours." She finally says.

The image is so beautiful, I want to capture it and frame it and brand it on the very surface of my mind. So much love and innocence in one photo, so much more than I'd ever thought could be possible in Panem.

Posy's arms are small, but look as if they were made to hold this particular child. And in Posy's arms, Cyra is contented and quiet. Not that she ever seems to cry at all.

As I lie awake that night, I am jittery. There is something I should have done. Something I forgot...

I sit bolt upright.

I didn't visit Annie. She would have been too preoccupied, too overjoyed at having Finnick back.

But there was one girl who would not have any visitors, because there was no one but me left who wanted to visit.

Sweeping up Cyra, who was beginning to cry anyway, I walk to the hospital.

Technically, what I am doing is illegal, and I could be arrested. No one is allowed to be out of bed at this hour, and Coin would absolutely love a reason to annihilate me as a threat.

But this particular wandering spree cannot wait until morning.

"Hey there." I say as I slip into the wing which I know holds Johanna. Her case is so severe, she has a private room.

For a moment, she doesn't respond, and I think she's asleep. But of course she's not.

"Madge Undersee." She whispers, before her eyes open.

There is something there which terrifies me, even though I can't explain what. Perhaps it is the way I had always thought of her as unbreakable, and here she lay. Broken.

Snow had succeeded in breaking the unbreakable. If he could do that, then what hope was there for the rest of us?

"I see you've been busy." She says, a hint of her old humour sparking in her eyes.

I smile ruefully. "Not mine."

"Really? Here I was, all hopeful the respectable Mayor's daughter had been involved in some sort of terrible scandal."

I laugh slightly. "Would you like to hold her?"

She jumps, and shakes her head slightly (stopping quickly as if it was causing her unendurable agony.)

"No, I'm not good with-"

Cyra is in her arms before she can protest any further. She falls silent, staring at the now sleeping child, her eyes flooded with tears.

"Oh Jo." I whisper.

After that, the only bits of my schedule I pay attention to are training (it's mandatory if you want to fight at all in the war) and command meetings. I spend all the time I can with Gale, Katniss, Annie and Johanna, and nothing they print on my arm can stop me.

I suppose, technically, I am still in training to become a doctor, just like Prim. But I'm not attending many courses- more focused on visiting the patients. Or four specific patients, rather. I do appear in surgery every day for an hour, and I do see to patients outside of the little family I have built for myself every other day.

It is three days until Katniss is discharged. Deciding that she needs my undivided attention more than anyone else at the moment, I put Cyra in childcare for the day, and wander around with Katniss aimlessly for a bit, before we end up in weaponry.

"So this is where you've been hiding." I laugh as Gale hugs me.

There is something forced about his smile, something about his entire being that tells me he does not want either of us there. Defensive.

I narrow my eyes.

"What are these?" Katniss asks, voice strangely cracked from the strain of being used after so long, and the pressure left over from when Peeta strangled her.

"What?" I laugh, though there is the hint of a challenge in my tone. "Is some sort of top secret government workings that you can't possibly show us?"

Beetee is extremely eager to show us. Gale hangs back, as if I am one of the bombs he's been working on, and he's afraid I might explode at any moment.

I run a hand over the blueprints. Blueprints which, in Coin's hands, could lead to the destruction of thousands of innocent lives.

Maybe Peeta had a point about a ceasefire. Our side is just as bad as the Capitol. Who cares if we're fighting for the right reasons?

The right reasons, as Coin proved so well, become warped over time.

I come to the one which involves baiting parents by putting the children in danger, and have to rest my forehead against the board and count to twenty, taking deep steadying breaths as my doctor told me.

I whirl around, my eyes demanding an explanation.

He just shrugs.

In the end, it is Katniss who asks the question which has been weighing on my mind.

"That seems to be crossing some sort of line. So anything goes?" There is a pause, heavily laden with unsaid accusations, and with the accusations which have just been voiced. "I guess there isn't a rule book for what might be unacceptable to do to another human being."

"Sure there is." Gale replies. I sense the storm coming in overhead, but there is nothing I can do to stop the words pouring out of his mouth. "Beetee and I have been following the same rule book President Snow used when he hijacked Peeta."

Katniss narrows her eyes, turns on her heel and leaves.

I throw my hands in the air, not even bothering to stem my own storm system which, inconveniently for him, is headed right his way.

"Unbelievable! Why the hell did you do that?"

"She was being-"

"Truthful? To the point? Telling you to get your head out of whatever fluffy cloud it's in at the moment so you can realise what the hell you're bloody well doing? She has been through hell and back, Gale Hawthorne, and now Snow's pushed her back in for a second dose! She needs us right now, and comments like that do not help her! And as for your little bombing systems... those could be used in more than one way. Like killing your own people. So you'd better listen to me right now, and listen hard. This is District 13. Not the Capitol. And right now, most of the time really, I feel like I've fallen right into President Snow land. What with all the bargaining and black mailing behind closed doors, sacrificing children for the cause, the dressing up and 18 year old girls used as mouthpieces and manipulating and covered up of deaths. Tell me, can you find a single _valid _difference between 13 and the Capitol? And I defy anyone to find a single difference between Snow and Coin. And... at this moment, I don't see the difference between the games and those bombs. So you'd better think about it hard. Because no war is worth losing who you are, and at the moment I don't recognise you, Gale Hawthorne."

"Wrong and right aren't the same in war. And there is a different between sacrificing 24 innocent children for no reason other than you can and sacrificing a few not so innocent Capitol children for the cause!"

"Snow had a reason for sacrificing those children, Gale, and you know it! You are making all the wrong decisions!" I suck in a deep breath and my gaze flicks to the computer screen showing the bomb his snares helped to design. "I can't even- I can't even look at you right now!" I turn my glare on Beetee, who, at the very least, has the decency to look ashamed. "Either of you."

With that, I leave them to design the traps that could design the Capitol all over again.


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's note: The song is Leaving on the 5th by Voxhaul Broadcast, and it was playing when I finished writing this. **

**I don't own the hunger games :(**

Gale.

I stare in shock as the door bangs shut behind her. Without warning, anger floods through me.

Slowly, I turn back to the piece of paper on the desk, on which Beetee and I were working before they came in.

"So, I reckon the explosion would work to get them out of the mountain, but-"

"Gale." Says Beetee, his expression tortured. "Why don't we get some lunch, and get in some practice on the shooting range, before coming back to this?"

Moral squeamishness, that's what I call it. After a minute, everything about me seems to cave in on itself, my shoulders sagging, and I nod resignedly.

The quiet mayor's daughter, who saw everything clearly without needing to do so much as blink.

The girl I had fallen in love with.

I sat, hunched over on myself, staring at the screen projected onto the Justice Building. Katniss wasn't featuring at the moment, but she would be back on, soon.

It was more than I could handle. I was going to go insane...

My mother was doing laundry whilst watching, Mrs Everdeen and Prim were watching at home, and Posy, Vick and Rory were across the square, pretending they didn't know and love the girl featured on the screen.

That's when I spot her. Madge Undersee. She looked as if she hadn't slept in weeks. Her tangled hair rippled down her back, blue eyes stared blankly at the TV screen, as if she was looking but not really seeing. Entirely alone, with no one watching her so far as she was aware, she looked on the point of some sort of mental breakdown.

_I knew her only vaguely. Katniss and I sold her strawberries, and so far as I knew, Katniss liked her. This worked in her favour. Katniss didn't like many people._

_I knew this much about Madge Undersee: she was quiet, closed off. Now Katniss was gone, she hadn't spoken to anyone but her parents in months._

_I walked over before I even knew what I was doing, and sat down next to her. After a painful pause, I decided that if I wanted her to speak, I was going to have to initiate some sort of conversation._

_"You don't talk a lot, do you?" I say. Her eyes flicker up to meet mine._

_"Maybe I don't have anything to say." She replies._

_"There's more to it than that." I said. She looked at me again, exhaustion evident in every line of her face._

_"Alright, fine. Maybe there's a lot more attention on me than there is on you, and if I started talking, I might say something I regret. Something that might just result in the wrath of the Capitol crashing over the entire district."_

_That was the moment I realised there was a lot more to Madge Undersee than she wanted you to see._

Katniss is going to two. I'm not surprised, to be quite honest. There is so much for her to deal with here- too much. Since our argument, Madge spends all her time hunched over a clipboard in a laboratory with Prim, trying to work out a cure to hijaking. But to no avail. I, for one, don't believe Peeta will ever be the same. And you can see that Katniss doesn't either. She's cracking more thoroughly than she ever did when he was gone, and you can almost see it in her face, read the sense of terrible loss in her eyes. It's no small wonder she wants to leave.

Both Madge and I call a temporary truce and offer to go with her. It is true that she needs our support, much more desperately than I think even she knows, but she declines both of us. Many thousands of wounded here need Madge, and besides that, her and Prim may be Peeta's only hope of recovery.

As for me, Beetee needs me, and the bombs we are engineering still need a lot of work. Or, at least, that's what she tells me. After the accusations Madge levelled at me yesterday, I think perhaps she feels she hardly knows me anymore, or that she doesn't like the hardness that has been developing for years within me, but that has taken both of them all this time to actually recognise. I try not to let it bother me, but without them both I am cracking as thoroughly as Katniss, as completely confused as Peeta and as lost as Madge.

My mother notices the change, of course, but I don't have anything to say to her about it. I fear that, if I tell her about the bombs I have pretty much single handedly engineered, and the ones I helped Beetee design, I will lose her too. I can't let that happen. So she is forced to watch her eldest son waste away before her eyes, knowing there is absolutely nothing she can do about it.

Avoiding Madge whilst things simmer down- or don't, as the case may prove to be, isn't as difficult as I first anticipated. I don't show up for meals, eating in Weaponry with Beetee, (discussing the deaths of thousands of despicable Capitol puppets over beef stew proves to be oddly satisfying), not meeting in Command unless it is absolutely necessary (it rarely is) and stepping out of Defensive Weaponry only to sleep.

One person who is quite indignant at the change is Posy, who is used to having attention lavished on her from every angle by three doting elder brothers.

"But _why_?" She wines for the thousandth time as I tuck her in for the first time in a week after getting home late every night from prolonged weaponry talks with Beetee.

"I told you, Rosy Posy." I say. "I need to work so we can win the way."

She squirms, causing Rory to throw her a dirty look. "Madge has a lot of time for me, and she's doing work which could win us the war."

Everything seems to freeze at the sound of Madge's name. "No." I whisper. "Madge is doing work that could save lives. Which is entirely different and entirely less time consuming."

"Gale!" Warns my mother from the corner, looking up from darning a sock of Vick's which got torn during training. She can sense that I'm straying into extremely dangerous territory. The one thing she won't let me get away with, just like Madge, is involving Posy in any argument of mine. Especially after Vick proved her to be so fickle.

"Sorry, mum." I say. "Night Posy."

And, with a kiss atop of her head, I pull her cover up to her ears and climb into my own bed, where a series of terrible nightmares await me.

Dawn breaks, as it always does, though the plain white apartment doesn't look any different than it did in the dead of night. How long must we stay here? Confined underground, reeling from the shock of losing our district? Hiding from the wrath of the Capitol, silently plotting our revenge?

I don't have an answer to all the questions that seem to go around and around in an endless circle.

However, as it turns out, I don't need one. Beetee has one, for me at least.

"I'm going to two?" I echo blankly.

"Yes. They need strategists to help us penetrate the nut, and you were the first person I thought of. As I won't be here, there wouldn't be much point to you staying here anyway."

"Oh."

"So, what do you say?"

There was reasons for me to stay. There was Rory, Vick and Posy, my mother, Prim and Mrs Everdeen and Cyra...

There was Madge.

"When do we leave?" I asked. He grinned.

"This afternoon. I'll need you to meet me in four hours in the hanger."

There was four hours before I could leave! I was itching to get above ground, to have access to a real war zone... There were, however, a couple of things I had left to do before I was ready to leave.

My mother's eyes fill with tears as I tell her what I am going to be doing. I embrace her, her small, sturdy frame engulfed by mine. I had grown to look a lot like my father. Perhaps that explained the regret in her eyes every time she looked at me.

I kiss Posy on the cheek, and even manage to get a small hug out of Vick and Rory.

Before, I'd never fully appreciated how hard the goodbye's were for Katniss. I'd assumed she'd felt the same sort of desperate dejection as me as she bid us all goodbye in preparation for the games. Now, however, I realised I was wrong.

There could be no comparison between being the one who tried desperately to hang on to the shreds of their sanity as they watched their loved ones walk out the door, and the one who felt themselves tear into a thousand different pieces as they walked out of the door.

Goodbyes are hard when it comes to loved ones. Especially when no one is convinced you'll come back...

I had several hours before it was time to go, but I couldn't stay in that compartment. I couldn't watch the faces of my family as the clock ticked away the seconds we had together, because somehow everything came back to the clock, to the concept of time and destruction.

If there was one thing I'd learnt since coming to thirteen, it was that time was fickle. When you wanted it to slow down, it would inevitably speed up, and if you wanted it to speed up, it was most definitely going to slow down.

If you wanted it to stop, you were completely and utterly deluded.

There was one person I still had to say goodbye to. One person I hadn't spoke to in weeks.

If I was going to die, I couldn't end it on this note with Madge.

Dithering for only a moment outside the hospital, I shook myself mentally, knocked on the lab and, without waiting for a reply, entered.

Madge and Prim were sat, heads together, at the opposite end of the lab. They both looked up as I came in. Madge's eyes lit up, and she flung her arms around my neck.

"God I've missed you Gale Hawthorne." She whispered as she pulled away.

"I'm going to two." I whispered.

She closed her eyes briefly, looking for the strength she needed as a little sigh escaped her. "You would have thought I'd have gotten used to saying goodbye by now, don't you think?"

I laughed slightly. "I'm not going to die, you know. You'll live to say goodbye to me again."

Laughing lightly, she punched me playfully on the arm. She bit her lip, then reached for the back of her neck and pulled a ribbon out.

It had been hidden from view.

A single silver button, our initials carved on the back.

_"What's that? In the snow?" She asked. Searching the papery white ground, my eyes locked on a bit of rusty silver, flashing in the weak wintery sunlight._

_Bending over, I picked it up, and balanced it carefully in the centre of my palm. A heart shaped button, large as buttons go, probably from a scarf or coat imported from the Capitol._

_"Hold out your hand." I whispered. She did as I asked, her eyes locking on mine. I dropped the button into her own outstretched palm, then enclosed her slender home in my own large, chapped one. "As long as you have this, I promise to come back to you. Wherever I may end up."_

_She smiles, and pressed her lips against my cheek. They're frozen cold from the snow, and it feels like getting a kiss from the wind. "So long as I have this button, I won't even need you to come back to me. I will have this memory with me, wherever I may go."_

_Smiling, I let go of her hand. "Alright then. So you don't forget me, and I'll always come home."_

"I can't believe this survived everything." I laughed. Then, I felt the laughter drain from my eyes. "I promise to come home. I promise to carry a piece of you with me, wherever I go. And I promise to love you, Madge Undersee, now and forever."

_You had to run for the weekend,_  
_And you had nowhere to be._  
_You had enough of the sorrow,_  
_And it was all on TV._  
_You blew a kiss to a goodbye and,_  
_That's how you met me._  
_Back to New York in the morning,_  
_You were right where we should be._  
_As you said here I am, here I am._  
_What I got is yours ._  
_Tomorrow I might be gone,_  
_But tonight, it's ours._  
_Oh it's ours._  
_Oh it's ours._  
_Oh it's ours._  
_Oh it's ours._  
_Well I know I barely know you._  
_Is that the way it should start?_  
_Said go ahead take a cheap shot,_  
_We took a shot in the dark.  
We put our cards on the table and said,_  
_Forget about the rest._  
_I'll drive you off in the morning,_  
_Tonight is ours._  
_You said, here I am, here I am._  
_What I got is yours._  
_Tomorrow I might be gone,_  
_But tonight it's ours._  
_Oh it's ours._  
_Oh it's ours._  
_Oh it's ours._  
_Oh it's ours._  
_Oh it's ours._  
_You said here I am, here I am._  
_What I got is yours._  
_Tomorrow I will be gone,_  
_But tonight it's ours._  
_Oh it's ours._  
_Oh it's ours._  
_Oh it's ours._  
_Oh it's ours._  
_Oh it's ours._

The song plays, over and over in my head as I walk away.


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's note: It always interests me how one character could change the entire storyline, if they had the guts. I think Madge does, although we'll have to wait and see how it affects the rest of the story...**

**The song is Shattered by Trading Yesterday. **

**I don't own the hunger games :(**

Madge.

It is several weeks since Gale left for two, and I am sat with Annie and Finnick. Annie and I are in full flow of wedding plan, and Finnick... Finnick is just staring at Annie. Not in a creepy way. In a way that said he couldn't bear the pain of tearing his eyes away.

"I don't think you have to wear white, Annie. You'll look beautiful no matter what you wear." I said. She smiled, and rested her head on Finnick's shoulder.

"I'm not really too bothered about specifics. Coin'll probably decide everything for us anyway." She admits. "I just want- I can't believe it's actually happening."

I smile, because both are completely radiant, and I can't think of anyone who deserves this any more than them.

I sigh. "Did you ever think any of us would get here? I still remember when you were telling me about your first kiss." _Before your games._ I add silently. Annie understands, because her eyes zone out for a brief seconds.

"I remember." She whispers. "And now, nearly everything's gone."

Finnick squeezes her hand. "There's still hope, Annie."

I gasp, because the writers block flies away as inspiration hits. Seizing the sketch pad, covered in Annie's absent minded doodles, I pick up the pen and begin to write.

"Oh my god! That's it! You're both genii!"

_Yesterday I died, tomorrow's bleeding.  
Fall into your sunlight.  
The future's open wide, beyond believing.  
To know why, hope dies.  
Losing what was found, a world so hollow.  
Suspended in a compromise.  
The silence of this sound, is soon to follow.  
Somehow, sundown. And finding answers.  
Is forgetting all of the questions we called home.  
Passing the graves of the unknown.  
As reason clouds my eyes, with splendour fading.  
Illusions of the sunlight.  
And a reflection of a lie, will keep me waiting.  
With love gone, for so long.  
And this day's ending.  
Is the proof of time killing, all the faith I know.  
Knowing that faith, is all I hold.  
And I've lost who I am, and I can't understand.  
Why my heart is so broken, rejecting your love,  
without, love gone wrong, lifeless words carry on.  
But I know, all I know, is that the end's beginning.  
Who I am from the start, take me home to my heart.  
Let me go and I will run, I will not be silent.  
All this time spent in vain, wasted years, wasted gain.  
All is lost, hope remains, and this war's not over.  
There's a light, there's the sun, taking all shattered ones.  
To the place we belong, and his love will conquer all. [x2]_  
_Yesterday I died, tomorrow's bleeding. _  
_Fall into your sunlight._

"Thank you! Thank you!" I kiss them both on the cheek, waving the piece of paper.

"Can I read it?" Finnick asks, holding out an expectant hand.

He looks up, his eyes gleaming. "Madge, what- where- it's perfect! Can you play it for us?"

And so we find ourselves in the piano room. Annie and Finnick exchange an excited look, though Annie looks slightly faraway. Perhaps this song conveys something to her, makes some kind of link with her, dregs up some sort of awful experience.

If I believed any of that, I was wrong. This song had done something that all the doctors in thirteen hadn't been able to do.

It brought the memories home, in a positive way. Connected her to the rest of us, allowed her to relive the memories, if only for a moment, in a way that wasn't painful.

She sat down on the piano stool next to me. "Could you teach me to play like that?"

"Sure." I smile, taking her fingers in mine. "If I can teach Posy Hawthorne, I'm pretty sure I can teach you."

Annie has almost learnt the sequence of the chorus when there comes a knock at the door, and Gale bursts in.

I leap to my feet. He crosses the room in several strides and engulfs me in his embrace. I bury my face in his shirt, fists curling up on his chest, handfuls of material in their grip. Tears flow freely down my face, his hands knotted in my hair.

"What- what-" I gulp. He answers, because he knows I cannot ask.

"Katniss."

She looks so peaceful, in the bed next to Johanna's, so vulnerable. Tears spark in my eyes. I smooth back the hair from her forehead, and plant a small kiss there. I turn to Gale. "What the hell did she do, to deserve all this? What the hell did any of us?"

He doesn't have an answer. I look back at her on the hospital bed, her hair loosened out of it's usual plait and scattered down her back, her lips parted with the difficulty of her breathing, her eyes closed. Lain there, like that, she almost looks like an ordinary teenage girl. With ordinary teenage experiences.

Not a victor of two hunger games who might just be close to losing the one man she had the _possibility _to love.

I turn to Gale. "No. She won't lose him. I want to go and see Peeta."

If not for Katniss, I might never have found Gale. The boy who, beneath all the bitterness and mood swings, the hate and the anger which hardened his heart, was loving and warm, with so much heat and so much _passion_, which was the reason for the hate in the first place...

He was the flip side of a coin, you couldn't have the fire without the hate, and you couldn't have the warmth and the passion without the anger and the bitterness... And I wouldn't change a single part.

Gale was everything I had been searching for without even realising I was looking. Katniss had led me to him, handed me the torch I needed to make a dent on the darkness. It was time I repaid the favour.

Cyra had made such an improvement, had such a profound impact on Johanna, I couldn't help thinking that, just perhaps... she would help Peeta too.

Everyone is opposed to the idea, but I override all their arguments. Peeta has shown such an amazing improvement- frosting the cake, talking to Haymitch...

"He's still Peeta!" Prim says firmly. "And Peeta would never hurt a baby."

"But might hurt Madge." Gale objects.

I glare at him. "I'm more than capable of protecting myself, thank you. Besides, Peeta knew me outside of Katniss. We used to buy his bread. I didn't know him well!" I add hastily, for the doctor's faces show ludicrous hope. "But I know what makes him tick. I've been working with Prim on the remedy, haven't I? I know what lines to cross and which to avoid." I turn to Gale, looking directly into the grey eyes which communicate so much without the need for words. "You _have _to trust me."

Finally, he nods.

Peeta looks up as I enter, and his face breaks into a small smile. "Madge!"

"Hey there. How you holding up?"

He sighs painfully. "I'd be better if they stopped pumping all these drugs into me."

"I know." I reply. "I authorized a lot of them."

"So you got to do that medical training?" He smiles, and it has the genuine warmth in it that is uniquely Peeta.

"Yes." I say, smiling myself now.

He cranes his neck, because he's caught sight of Cyra. "Who's that? Not yours?"

I laugh lightly. "Not mine. Can you imagine? No. This is Cyra. She's an orphan from 8. I adopted her. Would you like to hold her?"

"You- you trust me enough to do that?"

"Of course I do, you idiot!" I recall Prim's words. "You're still Peeta."

"Then yes, I would."

He holds her close, and you can tell it _is _Peeta Mellark, from the gentleness and the reverence with which he treats the child.

"There was a baby." He said suddenly, recognition of something I cannot see flashing in his eyes. "I lied about it."

"Yes." I say.

"Because I was afraid?"

"No. Because you loved her, and you wanted to protect her." I say.

Cyra keeps him calm, but his eyes flash with something. Anger? Fear? Perhaps both.

"You can't trust her! She's a mutt!" He whispers, though the venom is unmistakable.

"You and I both know that isn't true, and that you don't believe it."

He turns to me desperately. " I don't know what to believe anymore, Madge!"

"No. I know, Peeta. I tell you what, I'll tell you what I believe, a story of sorts."

"Alright." He says.

"Well, let's see." I say, because I am conscious that there is a secret glass window, that they are watching us, watching me. And besides that, I don't know how to get across what I want to get across. "It was sort of, snowy. Not just snowy." I lean forwards, closing my eyes in order to picture everything clearly. I know I'm doing the right thing, because this story doesn't involve him, but it does involve how he _feels. _"The entire ground was carpeted in this beautiful white blanket. There was a great quantity of feeble sunlight, and it had a rosy tint to it, because it was still extremely early morning, and it hadn't yet risen properly. I don't know if you remember 12 in the snow. Everything seemed to glitter, like some sort of magic being had come overnight and thrown fairy dust everywhere. That's what my father used to tell me. I don't know about you, but I always _loved _12 in the snow. It made it seem as if- as if the Capitol didn't exist. Or as if there were things they couldn't explain or prevent or control. As if they couldn't steal the beauty of our district from us. My breath rose in spirals in the air. The trees framing the meadow were dusted by a light coat of snow. Everything was so, so pretty, Peeta. It made me want to cry, seeing something so pure and so beautiful and so filled with I don't know what. And then Gale met me. He had his leather hunting boots on, and a worn leather hunting jacket. He was easy to see in the snow, dressed in black as he was. He seemed to sparkle, too, with the snow. I brushed the snow off his shoulders, and, without thinking, I told him I loved him. And I did. I was overwhelmed by the feeling, by the beauty of the very air and the rustling of the trees. And without hesitating, he told me he loved me too. And I was so overjoyed, and so _afraid. _I was completely overwhelmed by every feeling that arose, every memory I had faded in comparison." I opened my eyes, and looked at the boy who is watching me, completely entranced. "Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?"

He hesitates, brows knitting together as he tries to think, then shakes his head. "Sorry." He whispers, as if has admitted some kind of dreaful weakness or scandalous secret, and is ashamed. I smile.

"That's alright." I remember the technique they taught Katniss. "I tell you what, why don't we start with the simple stuff?"

"What?" He asks blankly.

"Like this." I tell him. "My name is Madge Undersee. I am 18 years old. I play piano. I am training to be a doctor. I adopted Cyra. I was the Mayor's daughter. My home is in District 12. Firebombs destroyed 12. I lost my parents to the fire in 12. The Capitol destroyed 12. I hate the Capitol. I love Gale, and I love Cyra, Prim and Posy and Vick and Rory and Johanna and Finnick and Annie and lots of others. And Katniss Everdeen is my best friend. And I am overwhelmed a lot of the time. And I am afraid... Almost all of the time."

He watches me. I smile. "Now it's your turn."

"Oh. Okay. Well, my name is Peeta Mellark. I am 18 years old. I can remember hardly anything about myself."

I sigh. "Try to start less complicated than _that _and work your way up. Do you remember anything less complicated than that?"

"Err. Well, I lost my family in 12, when the firebombs came down." His lip quivers. "My father was warm, but quiet. My mother was austere and could be cruel, but she loved me, and I loved her. My brothers were the same."

"Good." I tell him. "Really, really good Peeta! What else? Do you remember anything about your friends?"

"I played with Delly when I was younger. I was from the town. I- I think I baked. And drew, paintings and stuff, I think. And I loved the snow, just like you. And I loved the sunshine, too. And apples, from our orchard. They tasted nice, really sweet..." He hesitates, pulling back his train of thought. "And- and I hate the Capitol. I was hijacked by President Snow. Which is why I can't remember anything. I strangled Katniss, because I was afraid. Katniss protected me. She doesn't know if she loves me. People say she does, but doesn't know in what way. And- and-" It looks painful, thinking. "And I tried to protect her. Because... because..."

I hold my breath, waiting, praying. "Because I love her."

I exhale.

The fact of the matter is, Peeta is far from healed. He could flip and completely forget at any moment. He is still mentally unbalanced, and could lose what little he has. He is still a threat to her. He could still try to kill her.

But it is a huge step. And... Just maybe, it could be a huge step towards him getting well enough to get on with his life.

Because I am so happy, and because it is what he needs right now, I fling my arms around his neck, enfolding Crya too...

"Oh, Peeta! Thank God!"


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's note: This chapter has been such fun to write! Just thought I'd share that. **

**Review, possibly? **

**I don't own the hunger games :P**

Gale.

I pull uncomfortably at the collar of the t-shirt that Plutarch managed to pull from somewhere for me. Apparently, as one of the higher up of rebels, I need to be presentable.

Moving the piano for Madge so she could play the song that Finnick and Annie apparently inspired later? Easy. Wearing a confining wedding suit? Much, much harder than it looks.

My mother looks up from dressing Posy. Annie got to know Posy because of Madge, who spends every minute she can spare (which, admittedly isn't much) with my little sister. Something about Posy comforted Annie Cresta, whom nearly everybody says is mad, but the other minority says is just unbalanced. Posy seems to have that effect on a lot of people. Myself and Madge included.

Something about Annie won over Posy, too. Perhaps it was her gentle nature, or that she loved piano, or that she had the ability to design pretty dresses. Whatever it was, Posy and Annie were pretty much as inseparable as Annie or Finnick. Whenever Posy wasn't in school, she was with me, Madge or Annie.

And so, Posy had been a natural choice for flower girl. Which meant Coin had been forced to conjure up a pretty dress for her, too. In the end, Madge wore a dress designed by Cinna found in Katniss's wardrobe left over from the quarter quell, and my mother made up a dress for Posy using the material of yet another dress. Pink. It seemed Posy was getting her wish. Before the war ended.

It made me feel uneasy and happy at the same time. Uneasy as a result of thinking that maybe we might not win the war, despite the promising place we now found ourselves of having captured _all _of the districts, yet happy because, should we all be wiped out tomorrow, Posy (at the very least) would be contented in having achieved her life's ambition of having worn a pretty dress...

The ceremony is simple, with the choir of hastily assembled citizens of 13 and refugees of 12 alike singing the little wedding party down the aisle. As a surprise for Finnick and Annie, Coin allowed Finnick's little brother, grandmother and father to be flown in. Annie's parents were captured by the Capitol, but her 5 year old brother, who was under the care of Finnck's family, has the honour of walking her up the aisle.

Who'd have thought this kind of life was even possible in Panem? Whoever would have thought, even for a second, that life hadn't completely turned it's back on us?

No, I correct myself. Life had nothing to do with this, and neither did fate. All that _star crossed lovers _nonsense... it was all more rubbish from the Capitol. We were stood in that cramped hall for a reason, and that reason was the two people at the front of the room...

They had defied all odds. They had defeated the Capitol, the games, insanity, torture, loss and grief and fire... All so they could be together, even if it was only until the next tragedy struck.

Madge caught my eye from the front row, her eyes glinting with tears.

There are things which me and Katniss, who is sat on my left, a corsage made of little leaves and a dandelion adorning her wrist, have never heard of. Little touches in the ceremony, bits of Annie and Finnick's home. They touch each other's lips with salt water, Annie's eyes lighting with laughter for the first time since I've known her.

I think maybe Finnick, Madge and Katniss have a point about her... she's not half as mad as everyone makes out. She's sure about the person she loves, the person she's marrying. That's the best kind of mental clarity anyone could ask for.

Besides, after the games, it's a miracle she has a shred of sanity left. Would I, if I had of acted on the impulse to volunteer, so I could protect Katniss?

No, I don't think I had that kind of strength. I don't think I would even have had the strength to bite my tongue for long enough to live past the first hour or so... Or enough hold on my temper not to do something rash and get myself killed.

How dramatically everything could have been altered, if I hadn't have seen sense and decided to stick by my family, by Katniss's family...

I wouldn't be here, for starters. That was fairly certain. And Katniss... Would she have survived? Perhaps. Perhaps not... It was difficult to tell. Peeta Mellark had been fundamental, if not in her survival, then in the path she had taken after the rule about two victors being able to go home had been announced... And though it was true almost everything Katniss did, like Finnick and Annie, she did for herself, perhaps the unconscious igniting of a flame, the whole girl on fire persona, had needed a little prompting. I doubted she could have achieved a lot of the things she had if not for the prompting she had received from her loved ones...

One thing that was almost guaranteed was that there would have been no berries, and as a result, no rebellion...

The Haymitch Abernathy's and Maysilee Donner's and Finnick Odair's and Johanna Mason's and Annie Cresta's and Katniss Everdeen's and Peeta Mellark's and even the Rue and Mag's and Foxface's of the world...

What if everthing they'd suffered could be for a reason? What if it could achieve something?

Funny thing to inspire you to revenge, a wedding... And yet that was exactly what that particular wedding did.

That is when the music penetrates my skull, and, grinning, Madge and I take our places in the line of dancers.

It feels so good to do something carefree- it is the happiest I have felt in a long time, the steps, as if from another lifetime, flooding my brain and my instincts. Madge laughs as I misplace a foot, causing her to trip.

I remember learning the steps in her bedroom, more complex than I was used to. I had only ever participated in the more simple celebrations the miners held, but now, as Katniss's cousin, I was invited to the ball held at the Justice Building to honour her return from the games... On air, live, in front of the entire nation...

We link arms and spin in time to the energetic music, the traditional steps brought her all the way from District 12 echoed everywhere I look. It feels as if we have brought a bit of home to the dreary, drab lives of 13.

Perhaps it would take more than firebombs to crush District 12.

We were the laughing stock of Panem, as Madge put it. We were impoverished and hungry and clumsy. We had produced a victor only four times out of 75. We were poor, and our hands were useful only for mining coal. We couldn't give the Capitol jewels and luxury items or mine useful building materials or give them ingenious electrical items or exotic fish or transport everything they might ever need or vital wood or make the material for their beloved clothes or provide their grain for their food or livestock so they could stuff themselves stupid or even more food from the farms. Perhaps we were the poorest and most insignificant, overlooked of all the districts...

But we did excel at one thing. And that thing was dancing.

Perhaps this was even a result of being ignored and looked down upon for so long. It provided us with an opportunity to rebel, in a way in which ensured the Capitol never even realised. We had rebelled against the Capitol long before the rebellion had even begun, right under their nose.

Finally, Madge has to leave to play the piano for them which I used up so much energy bringing down, and I seek out my mother.

Vick is dancing with Posy and Rory with Prim (who has only just finished dancing with Katniss, whose ribs are causing too much agony for her to go on). It makes me smile to see. I give my mother a dance, knowing how much she loves to. She hasn't properly danced since my father died.

Perhaps this is an evening for healing, for firsts... For the awakening of long forgotten talents. Perhaps it is the feeling in the air, the same feeling which weddings always bring. But I know for a fact that Katniss hasn't sung since her father died, in the same accident which took out mine. And yet there she stands, singing the accompaniment for Madge's song.

It is remarkable, and everyone falls silent to listen. Peeta was right, in the end, even though telling him that now would probably cause him to try and murder you.

When Katniss sings, even the birds fall silent and listen.

Just when I think the evening can hold no more surprises, a cake is wheeled in. A cake which is devastatingly familiar to anyone who had ever passed the bakery in district 12.

Inadvertently, we've conjured up more of twelve than we could ever hope to create of 4, and I feel a dreadful, gut wrenching pang for the home I have lost...

I remember Madge mentioning something about Peeta frosting cakes, but never in my wildest dreams could I have dreamt up something like this. My gaze flickers across to Katniss in time to see her draw drop, some kind of terrible shock registering on her face.

I wait until the celebrations have finished before taking Madge aside.

"Peeta wants to speak to her." She explains, curled up against my chest. We're in her room, so she can tell me everything away from prying eyes and curious ears. Namely Posy's. She's a dreadful gossip for a five year old but, of course, being a five year old, doesn't always understand the whole truth. Gossip spreads like wildfire in this place. One misplaced word or phrase taken out of context can result in a huge scandal... Mostly because the people here are so starved for any kind of entertainment or fresh news.

Not to mention a proper sense of humour.

"He must be getting a lot better, to be able to frost a cake like that." I say.

"He is." She admits, getting up as Cyra begins to cry. "Well, you saw him speaking to me the other day. The improvement he's shown is massive." She sighs, and brushes a curl off Cyra's forehead. It surprised me, how quickly they sprouted there. Already, she's losing a more and more of her new-to-the-world babyish looks.

"But he won't ever be the same? At least not fully the same, the way Katniss remembers him?" I ask. It is just dawning on me how massive this all his... How thorough Snow has been in messing up Katniss's future.

She looks at me, her blue eyes filling with tears just as Cyra goes quiet.

"No. No, I don't think he'll ever be the same."


	24. Chapter 24

**Author's note: I don't own the hunger games. I've wrote that 24 times now. You must be bored of hearing it... And it really depresses me... **

Madge.

"So- so what exactly are you saying?" I manage to stammer.

"That you have a choice to make. Do you want to be a healer or a soldier?"

"Do- do I have to make the choice right now?" I ask.

"Of course not." Boggs cuts across the President. He knows, of course, who calls the shots around here. He's _her _soldier- possibly even her slave. But he's also starting to see how much of a dictator Coin really is. There is no more democracy, no more fairness and no more equality in her rule than there was in Snow's. And pressing me into a decision right there and then is not the right thing to do. Doesn't take a fool to know that. "I tell you what, why don't you come back to my apartment, and we can talk it through? I don't think you've met my son."

I cannot reconcile my conception of Boggs and my conception of a father, and it arouses curiosity. So I agree to go with him.

"Here he is." Laughs Boggs, pulling his two year old son up onto his hip. His wife, who I recognise as a nurse from the hospital, watches with a wide smile.

"Madge, this is my son Dmitri and my wife Maya."

"Nice to meet you." I say, smiling at his wife and tickling the chin of the child, who giggles and squirms in delight.

Looking at Boggs with his family, I realise nothing could have fit him better.

"You may have met Maya in the hospital?" Boggs asks.

"I think so." I reply, sending an unsure smile in her direction shyly.

"Perhaps you do not know me well, Madge." Says Maya, stepping forward and wrapping an arm around her husband and son, and returning my smile with wholehearted warmth. "But I know you extremely well."

Maya Boggs is much younger than her husband. Whist Boggs is perhaps early to mid 40s, she can only be around mid 20s to early 30s. She is not exactly pretty, but not ugly either- a lot like Boggs himself. She has extremely fine light brown hair and a pale complection- she has most probably never seen the sunlight in her life. Her deep brown eyes are filled with warmth and kindness. She is slender, and quite short, completely dwarfed by her husbands tallness and broad shouldered frame.

It turns out, she is what the people in 13 call my _observer. _Observer's are the people who are the very highest up in their profession, and judge whether or not a new recruit or person aspiring in a particular field has what it takes to excel. Boggs is also labelled with this title, and both have judged me 'worthy'.

Bouncing young Dmitri on my knee, I listen carefully to what she is saying, trying to figure out where she is going with this. To no avail.

Maya seems to sense that I am struggling. "What I am saying, Madge, is that you _do _have a choice. But Stewart-" It takes me a moment to realise she is referring to Boggs. His christian name sounds so odd, like it hangs in the air. Boggs, or _Stewart_, smiles, as if he knows exactly what I am thinking.

"And we suspect Coin of trying to sway you. We don't want her to manipulate you into making the wrong choice. Stewart mentioned that he was concerned about you after you argued with her. So we thought it only fair to bring you here and warn you." Maya adds.

Boggs nods, worry making him look so much older than he actually is for a moment. Then he smiles.

"You are an excellent soldier, Madge. But you're an excellent healer, too."

I sigh, looking little Dmitri directly in the eyes. "I can't be both."

"No." Boggs sighs heavily. "Well, you can. But not in this war."

"There's no rush, honey. By all means, take your time. It might even be wise to wait for them to assign you to a team before making your decision. But remember, it takes a very special, courageous person to choose the path of a soldier. But an even more courageous person to chose the path of a healer."

Boggs scowls at his wife playfully. "You don't play fair!" He accused his wife, laughing playfully. "I thought we agreed not to sway her either way? Well, if that's how it is, Maya, that's how it is. But you must also remember, Madge, that you have the rest of your life ahead of you to be a doctor, and I am confident you will save hundreds of lives if this is the path you choose to take after the war is over. But this war could be your one chance to be a soldier. Your _one chance _to fight the Capitol."

Maya sighed heavily. "What we _both _mean, Madge, is that whichever one of us- I mean, whatever path you chose, we will be honoured to have you on our teams." She smiles. And then adds hurriedly, a teasing glance sent her husbands way. "And save thousands of lives rather than terminate them."

"What she meant to say, Madge, was; and get revenge on the Capitol for killing your parents and destroying your district."

I can still hear them laughing and arguing playfully after I shut the door. Smiling to myself, I realise they have given me the biggest decision of my entire life.

A couple of months ago, my choice would have been extraordinarily simple. I would have gone to the Capitol and fought for everyone and everything that had ever been taken from me. I would have got my revenge, and it really would have been sweet. Perhaps bittersweet, but sweet nonetheless.

A couple of months before that, however, my choice would have been even more simple than that. I would have gone to the Capitol and healed every man, woman and child thrown into my path, and made sure no deaths were suffered where deaths were preventable. No orphans or widows or single fathers were created where they need not be... No fatherless or motherless children, no voids within people, no shattered hearts, where shattered hearts could not only be pieced back together, but not be broken in the first place...

So here it was. Big, and undeniably life changing, a decision which would no doubt shape my entire future.

As I deliberated, I felt as if I was chosing not only between two paths I desperately wanted to follow, but two people I desperately wanted to be.

The girl with the mockingjay pin, the pretty dresses and the strawberries, the girl who was secretly _so _much more than just the Mayor's daughter. The girl who loved and embraced the entire world she felt as if her heart would split in two. Who forgave out of a mix of compassion and vengeance. The girl with a soul as pure and as untouched as the white snow she so loved to see out of her window...

And then there was this other girl. The girl whose transformation had been slow, but even more noticeable as a result. The girl who had a fire burning inside of her, taking firm shape on the same soul which had once been so sickeningly pure and white... The girl who not only needed but _wanted _to fight. For her friends, for her family, for the boy she loved, for all she had lost, for the future which seemed so close, so tangible...

Both girls were me. And both were girls I _wanted_ to be. One was changed beyond redemption, new and exciting and reckless and wonderful, and one was old, pure and familiar and comforting, and so explicitly _me. _

Both girls led to vengeance, which was so desperately desirable. Both girls led to love, to a future. Both girls led to the Capitol's downfall. Both girls led to happiness. And both girls led to the possibility of pain...

Both girls were ever so slightly broken, and both girls were irrevocably changed.

I needed more time. So I didn't mention anything to Gale, training in both the hospital and the soggy field, as per usual.

Gale and I wait for Katniss is the dining hall. Unlike me, she's not in high demand at the moment, and is having to work extremely hard to get herself to the Capitol. Trembling with poorly supressed rage, I reflect on all that Coin asked of her before throwing her away like yesterday's rubbish, and come to the conclusion there is no word strong enough to describe my hate for Coin. At least Snow is openly evil.

The beef stew is better than usual, I reflect, sat with Delly, Annie and Finnick, Gale, Johanna and Katniss. I eat rather than talk. It is quite something to see the transformation brought on in Annie and Finnick by their marriage. The side which I always saw in them is brought out into the light for once, making my smile through my mouthfuls of beef stew.

I always seem to be smiling these days.

I snort into my soup as I listen to the story Finnick is telling about a day on the beach where a sea turtle ended up swimming off with his hat. I do remember something similar happening when I was on one of the annual tours, and Annie, Finnick and I were sat on the beach, and decided to go swimming, Finnick rejecting all our advice about taking his hat off. I meet Annie's gaze, much sharper than usual, and realise she is remembering too, and that for once, the reminiscing isn't painful...

Which is why I don't notice Peeta until I hear Katniss's laughter cut off, and a choking sound issue as the bread she was halfway through swallowing gets caught in her throat.

The conversation is odd, stilted. Peeta is in one of his bad stages, and Johanna says something which has Annie backing out of reality. It takes Finnick nearly 6 minutes of uttering reassurances in her ear to calm her down. Delly brings up the wedding cake, and I glance at Katniss as some of the old Peeta resurfaces in his voice, but she still looks hopeless and it is more than I can stand.

I have to give her some kind of hope.

"I tell you what, Peeta, why don't we play at stories?"

"What's that?" Asks Annie.

"You'll enjoy this." I say, with a smile. "Peeta says a word, and I have to tell a story which relates to it. We could all have a go." I say, looking beseechingly around the table.

"Alright." Says Peeta, swallowing a mouthful of stew. "Leaves."

"Ooh, that's easy." I laugh. "What made you think of that?"

He nods in the direction of my wrist. Gale went hunting this morning without me, to clear his head, and to make up for it brought back a rust coloured leaf, a sign of autumn approaching.

"Why doesn't someone else start?" Asks Delly. "We can go around anti clockwise, make it a group game!"

There is so much enthusiasm in her tone that no one refuses. Unfortunately, it is Annie who has to start. I exchange a worried glance with Finnick, but, as it turns out, we needn't have worried. She holds onto his hand as if gripping to an anchor at sea.

"It was a really, really hot summer. Sweltering, actually. I remember, I was wearing a short skirt and a t shirt. I was meeting Finn down at the beach. We kicked off our sandals so we could feel the sand in between our toes. It was such a wonderful feeling." Her eyes fill with tears. "With the sun, and the sounds of the sea, and the feeling of sand in between our feet. It felt like I really was _alive._ Like every moment that would ever be worth living was condensed into that moment. Finn took my hand, and we ran down the beach, right into the sea. He kept pulling me further in, deeper and deeper, even though the water was freezing and my mother was going to kill me for getting my only summer clothes absolutely soaked. But I kept walking, feeling the sea bed beneath my feet. And, when we were in up to our shoulders, he turned around and put his arms around my waist under the water, pulling me closer. I remember being so afraid, and standing stock still a moment, before I put my arms right around his neck and kissed him. It tasted of salt water, and seemed to symbolise so much that I didn't yet know, and entire future just for us..." She trails off a moment. "And we ran all the way back, and I remember noting the leaves bursting into life in the most vivid shade of green imaginable, paving the way all the way home. And I thought, this is it. This is my forever. Even the leaves on the trees think so."

And, without warning, she puts her hands over her ears and begins to hum loudly, and Finnick takes forever to coax her out.

There didn't even seem to be a set off. The conversation pretty much dried up after that... I made an excuse, and scampered from the hall, taking Gale and Katniss with me. I couldn't sit there, especially after Peeta takes a dig at Katniss.

"Oh, and Gale?" Calls Peeta. We all turn at once, as if we are one person. I guess, in this circumstance, we are. "Look after her." He nods at me. "Or I might be tempted to steal her away."

Gale begins to shake with anger. I put a hand on his arm, stilling him. "Come on."

A week later, I have to sit the exam to get an assigned soldier.

It's Coin's way of telling me that my time is up. She's sick of waiting, and everyone who knows about the choice I have still to make is awaiting my decision.

So I take my exam, and have my hand stamped with 451. I take slow steps toward Command, mind whirring.

What the hell do I do now? I really, really need to make a decision, but every nerve in my body is torn, not knowing what to think or what to do.

As I reach command, I sigh. Whichever way I chose, the results will be dramatic. Whichever way I chose, it is guaranteed I am going to spend the rest of my life wondering _what if... _

This is the easy option. Become a soldier. Accepting the person I have become. Fighting in a squad with Gale and all my other friends who are assembled her. Perhaps that is what the entire universe has been trying to tell me all this time. I take a seat, and offer Boggs and Gale both defeated smiles.

I have made my decision.

At the end of the presentation (of which I haven't taken in a single word), Gale encloses me in his arms, smiling from ear to ear.

"This is it." He whispers, mounting excitement making him sound about 5... "We're going to the Capitol! We're going to fight!"

"Yeah." I whisper, for fear my voice is about to crack and give me away.

The smile slides slowly from his face, and his arms tighten around me.

"You're not going, are you?" He whispers.

Slowly, I shake my head. He sighs, and presses his lips against the top of my head. "I love you." He whispers. "And I'm proud. It takes a very courageous person to be a solider, but an even more courageous person to be a healer, after all."

He smiles, and I realise he'd known about the decision I was having to make, perhaps even before they had told me. And that he'd known with even more clarity what I would chose, all along...


	25. Chapter 25

**Author's note: I don't know where this chapter came from. I meant to write about Gale's reaction to Peeta turning up at their camp, and instead wrote this. I hope you like it :)**

**The song is Undone by FFH and it was the first thing that came up on shuffle this morning. **

**It feels like a Saturday. I have the day off because of my school's open day, and tomorrow because of strikes. Which makes me very happy. I've been really busy up to a week ago, so I decided not to arrange anything and write fan fiction instead :)**

**Just in case you hadn't gathered by now, I am not Suzanne Collins and, most unfortunately, do not own the hunger games :(**

Gale.

Madge scampers off to comfort Johanna Mason the minute Haymitch Abernathy tells her about how Johanna panicked when they flooded the street, and how far it has set her back... Which leaves me to wander around for a bit and try to get my head around the impending separation.

Coming to the conclusion that I both admire and resent Madge for the choice she has made doesn't help me much. She won't be out of danger- far from it, the healers are quite frequently thrown into more dangerous situations than the soldiers. The only difference now is that I won't be around to protect her.

I sigh, and put my head in my hands. We're going to have to go our separate ways for a month or two, until the downfall of the Capitol, at the very least. It is in no way a permanent separation, and in some respects not a separation at all, since we will still be allowed a phone call a day which is granted to the higher up of the soldiers to communicate with command.

The sooner I accept this, the better for everyone involved.

Due to meet Madge in a couple of minutes, I pull myself together, knowing that if I present a person who looks like he's five years old and just been told Christmas has been cancelled, she'll begin to have qualms about going at all.

This _is_ the right decision, I remind myself. For her, this is the right decision.

My fingers close around the button in my pocket. I'm going to have to find a way to give it back to her, before I go. If I die, I want her to have a piece of me that can't ever be eradicated, and this button is the ultimate survivor. Thus far, it has proven itself to be bulletproof, fire proof, bomb proof... Basically, everything-that-you-can-throw-a-little-silver-butt on proof.

The training is accelerated, so we barely have time to talk at all anymore, other than mealtimes. Madge too is working hard, coming to the hospital in the early hours of the morning and leaving late at night. I think she has to make up for all the courses she missed whilst prioritising her friends and working around soldier training alongside. She says she knows a lot of it, but is enjoying herself rather a lot nevertheless...

Her only regret is Cyra, who has been given to the couple in apartment 616 after they lost their seventh child to miscarriage. She cried for seven nights, but was eventually forced to accept that, as an unmarried 17 year old girl with an almost 24 hour career and no relation to the baby other than a strong instinct to care for her, she didn't really have a long term claim to the child, and Cyra may have a better future ahead of her with these people, however hard it had been to give her up to strangers...

However, the loss of Cyra from our midst didn't just hit Madge hard. Katniss and Finnick are working with a level of ferocity rarely seen by man, trying to work away their grief. Annie had a set back so bad it put her in the hospital for a week. Madge and Prim were forced to sneak Johanna an entire box of morphine vials when she flipped out after hearing about it and was all geared up to march to Command and give Coin a dose of District 7's finest. Peeta just nodded, saying nothing until Madge left, where he smashed an entire row of 12 cupcakes with his fist, one by one.

Never again would I question the power of love and innocence and childhood, and it's pull on even the hardest of hearts.

Thus far, training wasn't much different, except that it included less building up of strength and much more working on shooting ranges. It turned out to work out in pretty much everyone's favour. Finnick, Katniss and I at the very least were much more competent when we had our own, familiar weapons back in our hands than when we were working with clumsy guns, though all three of us could still use a gun with uncanny accuracy.

It struck me, on the third day of training, that there was one huge difference between me and the rest of my squad.

I had only ever seen death on the big screens... Proper shootings, anyways. My only real experience of war lay in the ones I'd gained since I'd got here... The bombings of the hospital and the blowing up of the mines. I'd never actually looked at someone as I killed them, seen the light leave their eyes, know that it was my fault...

Everyone here had. And look how it had changed them... I had never known the rest of the squad before now, but I did know from Madge's stories that Finnick Odair had most definitely changed, and I knew without a question of a doubt that Katniss Everdeen was a girl changed virtually beyond recognition.

Vowing that I would never let it change me, I turn with a slight shiver and shoot the peacekeeper dummy at the far end of the shooting range, red paint spurting out across 10 metres.

And so, when Plutarch tells us we won't actually be fighting, we're all a bit annoyed. We are, after all, the most accurate overall shooters out of all the groups. And quite possibly the group that wants this most, has suffered the most to get here.

I look over at Katniss and realise. She never had any intention of staying in the squad at all. And now, neither do I.

Saying goodbye to my family, quite possibly for the last time, is excruciating. Posy, catching on to what is happening, that this might possibly be our last goodbye, dissolves into hysterical tears and can be consoled by no one, eventually running out of the room.

"She'll come back." My mother says, her eyes swimming with tears. "And so will you, Soldier Gale Hawthorne. That's an order."

"Yes ma'am." I say, giving her a salute. Then she pulls me into a bone cracking hug, her chin resting on my shoulder.

"I love you, Gale." She whispers. "Just, try your best to come home. I don't think any of us could ever manage without you."

"Love you too, mum. And I promise to do everything in my power to come back. You haven't heard the last of me, that I can guarantee."

Turning to face Rory and Vick, because the lump in my throat is becoming unbearable, I give each a military salute.

They both return it, chins wobbling as they try not to cry, try to keep their ridiculous Hawthorne pride in tact. Vick is the first to crack. He hugs me so tight I feel that, if the Capitol doesn't kill me, my family's hugs most certainly will. Rory then gives me one too. It's so uncharacteristic of both of them, I can't help but laugh.

"Hey there, Soldier Hawthorne junior and Soldier Hawthorne junior junior. What's brought this on?"

Rory is the first to pull away, his grey eyes sparkling unusually bright. "I'll see you on the battlefield, Soldier Hawthorne senior."

"Yeah, and I just get to miss out on all the action, but I'll see you at the surrender anyway." Vick says, his face frustrated. I see my mother wince, and turn away.

The 14-15 year old soldiers, like Rory, are only going to be exposed to the low risk streets. Still more than I'm going to be able to do, by the looks of it. On orders at least. But it's a sore spot with my mother. The moment she heard, she went off in a rant about how it was no better than the hunger games, sending such young children into a war zone. The fact of the matter is, it's highly unlikely Rory will be exposed to anything life threatening. Nearly as possible as snow in august. And even if he is, he's a good shot.

None of which will stop my mother worrying. Or me, for that matter.

I follow the sound of the music, and the sobbing. When I reach the door, I rest against the door, just listening to her singing. She's good. Hasn't the power of Katniss's... Mockingjays wouldn't fall silent to hear her voice. But it is incredibly sweet, and makes you stop in your tracks. It puts me in mind of those sweet strawberries and even sweeter kisses, of sunlight and laughter and the woods and my home...

There is _something _about her voice which conveys so much that a million years of talking and discussing and speeches and storytelling couldn't give you... Sending chills up my spine.

_Open up wide, swallow down deep_  
_No spoon full of sugar could make it sweet_  
_The cancer inside, stealing my sleep_  
_Night after night, it keeps haunting me_  
_The secrets I keep are tearing me up inside_  
_I try to hide and then I wonder why_  
_I wonder why I'm still running_  
_When I know there's no escaping_  
_Come undone, surrender is stronger_  
_I don't need to be the hero tonight_  
_We all want love, we all want honour_  
_Nobody wants to pay the asking price_  
_Fall on my knees, fall on my pride_  
_I'm tripping over all the times I've lied_  
_I'm asking please but I can see in your eyes_  
_You don't need tears for alibis_  
_It's true what they say, love must be blind_  
_It's why you're still standing by this sinner's side_  
_You're still by my side_  
_When all the things I've done have left you bleeding_  
_Come undone, surrender is stronger_  
_I don't need to be the hero tonight_  
_We all want love, we all want honour_  
_Nobody wants to pay the asking price_  
_I don't think I can drive it home tonight_  
_I don't think I wanna be alone tonight_  
_Come undone, surrender is stronger_  
_I don't need to be the hero tonight_  
_We all want love, we all want honour_  
_Nobody wants to pay the asking price_  
_Come undone, surrender is stronger_  
_I don't need to be the hero tonight_  
_We all want love, we all want honour_  
_Nobody wants to pay the asking price_

I can't listen to it anymore, and push open the door gently, disguising the sound of my footsteps until I'm directly behind her. I put my hands on her shoulders. She doesn't jump.

"You know, I'd forgotten that you could do that. How easily you could sneak up on me." She turns to me, her eyes glistening with a thousand tears I know she will never cry. "How much more can I forget, Gale?"

I don't have an answer. So instead I just open my arms. She walks into them without question, resting her head against my chest. It's so comforting, and so familiar, I thread my fingers through her loose hair.

Pulling away, she turns her face the other way, wiping tears from her eyes. "Your sister was in here earlier."

"What?" I ask. "Where did she go?"

"Command, I think. I couldn't persuade her to stay. She went to tell Coin that you weren't allowed to go."

I laugh, sitting down beside her on the piano stool.

"Good luck, Coin." I take Madge's face in my hands, and wipe away the tears with my thumb. She sighs.

_Kiss me hardy, kiss me quick. _

It was from a history textbook dictating a life before Panem, the life of the ancients... our ancestors. Some dude called Nelson, who said it on his death bed. I reckon he had the measure of this crazy world pretty good.

_Kiss me hardy, kiss me quick. _

And kiss me Madge does. Somehow it means so much and so little all at the same time. We go so much deeper than just this.

"Can I hear it? The piece you were playing before I came in?" I ask.

Slowly, she nods, her fingers trembling slightly as she places them lovingly on the yellowing keys.

Once she has started, she can't stop, engrossed in the song as she is, her hands flying across the piano, coaxing the beautiful music out of the reluctant instrument. This is how I love her best.

In every one of her forms, condensed into one Madge.

Sighing heavily, I know I have to leave, while she's still absorbed in the music... While she'll still let me go. So I get up, plant a kiss on her cheek, and walk out of the door... This is me, Madge Undersee. Never looking back.

As I leave, an inexplicable drop of salt water splashes onto one of the embossed, fading keys.

We never did actually say goodbye.

Eventually, I track down Posy in a supply closet. She's crying in a broken way that makes it sound as if her heart is broken into a million pieces, knees brought up to her chest with her arms wrapped around herself, and it breaks my own heart to see.

I don't say anything as I sit down next to her, assuming the same position, staring blankly at the wall opposite.

"Do you really have to go?" Sniffles a small voice.

I sigh, wishing I could give a different answer. "Yes." I whisper. "But I'll be back. Just you wait and see."

"When?" She sniffles.

Grinning, I take a pencil from the box on the nearby shelf. "Stand up, Rosy Posy."

She complies. I make a mark on the wall, and write in neat lettering 'Posy Hawthorne, the day her brother went to war.'

She looks at me blankly, eyes still full of tears.

"I'll be back, Rosy Posy, as soon as you're this big!" And I make a mark on the wall, just a couple of inches below my own height.

She can't help it. She bursts into laughter.

I bend down so I am at her height, and look her in the eye, taking her face in my hands just as I had Madge a couple of minutes ago.

I memorize everything about her. The large, grey eyes framed by beautiful lashes, the olive toned skin, the long dark hair... She was a Hawthorne, alright. But she was the only Posy Hawthorne there would ever be. She was my little sister, and she was so beautiful.

She was five years old. She should not be suffering through this.

"I don't know when I'll be back, Posy. But I know that I will. I promise you that much."

And I meant every word.


	26. Chapter 26

**Author's note: Still debating whether to let Finnick die... I think it'd be interesting to write about how Annie coped. I was traumatized for weeks after he died though. Might just see where the story takes me... **

**I don't own the hunger games. **

Madge.

When I turn around, he's gone. Pressing my fingers lightly against my cheek where his lips were pressed up until a couple of seconds ago, or possibly a couple of hours ago, I close my eyes and rest my forehead against the wall in what has become my signature mental breakdown position. Or perhaps just my signature please, _please_ let me find the strength to do this position.

Must work, anyway, because find the strength I do...

Pulling myself together as rapidly as I can, I leave in search of someone, I don't know who, anyone...

That person turns out to be Maya Boggs.

Firmly handing me a cup of very strong, hot sweet tea, she sits down on the hard hospital chair opposite me.

"I'd ask if you were okay, but that would be an extremely stupid question." She sighs.

I agree. It would be a very, very stupid question.

Of course I'm not okay! I just said goodbye to Gale, for crying out loud, with the possibility that I might never see him again! And I'm trying to be strong, but inside I am breaking, piece by piece.

I put my hand in my pocket for the button, the one thing which anchored me to sanity the last time we were separated, before realising I gave it to Gale. The idea of him having the button is oddly comforting.

Maya Boggs just watches my attempts to pull myself together, not offering a single word, just sharing the silence.

"Do you know how many times I've said goodbye to Stewart now, Madge? How many times I've had to prepare myself for the possibility he might not come back?"

Considering it properly, I come to the conclusion that, compared to Maya and Boggs, all the times Gale and I have said goodbye are childs play.

"Does- does it get any easier?" I ask, my voice hoarse, breaking.

"No." She sighs. "I wish I could give you another answer. But that is the truth of it. The only thing that will make it any easier is throwing yourself into your work."

I laugh. "You just want my work rate to pick up."

She laughs, holding her hands in the air in mock surrender. "Guilty."

I pull on the rubber gloves and examine the charts for today with almost absent minded indifference. Maya stands beside me, then sighs.

"Who are we kidding? We're a sorry crew indeed, today, Madge. And in all seriousness, if your work rate picks up any more, I'm going to have to tell my boss you're a work a holic and force you to take a week off."

I sigh dreamily. "Whatever would I do with a week off? I'd go on a holiday to the Capitol, a couple of weeks in the sun at President Snow's place... sounds like paradise to me."

She laughs, shoving me playfully. "All about the tan, you. I reckon we should take the day off from serious work. We can sulk and mope about how bitterly unfair this life is in packaging. They're packing up all the medical equipment for our little trip next week. It's quite therapeutic, really."

Prim was already in packaging, working with a ferocity that suggested each little first aid kit had done her a very deep, personal wrong. However, as I enter, she affords me a small tight smile.

Primrose Everdeen has grown up beyond anyones wildest dreams. In appearance alone, she looks about 16, rather than just 13 (14 in a couple of weeks). Dressed in some of the nicer clothes 13 had to offer, a worn, knee length white dress with mismatched buttons and a torn collar, pulled in at her waist, with her hair in a single plait down her back and lose curls escaping to frame her face, she looks so much more grown up than I ever would have even thought possible.

It's not just in appearance, but in maturity. At the impressive age of just 13, she is a fully fledged healer. And she's one of our best. She always seems to know what to do after just one glance, never needing more than that to assess every one of the patients needs, and never ever panicking under pressure. There's something else about her, too- she sees everything in life so clearly.

"Chuck me one of those scalpels, Prim." I say from next her.

"No, no, _noo!" _Calls Maya playfully, grinning. "There will be no chucking of scalpels in this room, not under my watch, thank you very much. We're meant to cure injuries, not create them!"

Prim and I exchange grins, laughter lighting both of our eyes before we both fall back into the shadowy land of worry.

That evening, I get a phone call to Gale from command. It feels like forever since I have heard his voice, even though it was only this morning.

"Hi." I whisper into the phone, grinning and biting on my lip as his voice answers.

"So how are preparations for the big healer mission going?" He asks. I can hear the teasing note in his voice and laugh.

"Shut up, Soldier Hawthorne. It's important work, I'll have you know!"

"I know, Madge. I was just teasing. I think what you're doing is amazing. I honestly want to know."

I sigh heavily. "As well as it could be, considering the budget we're put on. How's stuff with you? Everyone okay? What have you been up to?"

Sensing the mounting panic in my voice, Gale hurries to reassure me. "We've only just got here, Madge. And to be honest, from what I can tell, there won't be much action anyway." He sighs heavily. "It's so _frustrating!" _

Smiling to myself, I try to stem the relief flowing through me. "I know. When the time comes, make sure you kill a few Peacekeepers for me."

He laughs. "Promise. It looks like I have to go now. Sorry."

"It's okay." I whisper, trying to hold onto his voice for as long as I can. "I miss you."

"Miss you too. I love you."

"Love you too."

Sighing heavily, I put the phone down. And that is when, for the first time that day, I properly break down.

Sobbing unashamedly against the wall, I don't even try to stem the flow of tears. What's the point? What's the point in anything?

On the following day, Prim and I have to leave. Neither of us say goodbye to anyone but Buttercup. We are both coming back.

On the train out there, Prim takes my hand and asks a question which causes me some thought.

"Madge, what do you think your parents would have said, if they knew where you were going?"

I swallow hard against the lump in my throat. "I- I don't know. I've been trying not to think about them, to be honest."

"Oh. Sorry. Was that an impertinent question? You don't have to answer. I was just... curious. But-"

"No. No, it is okay. It probably is time I thought about them. Time I let them go. I think they'd both be very proud. And terrified. Really, really terrified out their wits about me."

"What were they like?" She asks, inquisitive.

I smile to myself, the image of my father coming to the front of my mind. "They were- wonderful people. My father was warm and loving and kind. He worked day and night, trying to keep the district safe. He was so, so _selfless. _He was the sort of man who blended into the background, who had to work for everything he gained. But he never questioned his fate, never questioned that he was doing the right thing in trying to save the district, even though it was costing him everything he was."

Briefly closing my eyes, I try to recall everything about him, but my mother's face floats into consciousness.

"And my mother. My mother loved so much, tried so hard to embrace the entire world, that eventually... it destroyed her."

Prim stares at me with wide blue eyes before, eventually, taking my hand. "I think they sound just like you."

The medical work in the Capitol _is _dangerous, as you would expect. The ground is littered with corpses and wounded alike... Sometimes, the only difference between the two is that the corpses don't scream or writhe in unendurable agony. In a way, the situation of the dead is enviable, and I feel my sanity slipping away, for there is no such relief for the living. For the mortally wounded, for the ones we cannot save.

The Capitol dropped a group of tortured prisoners outside the borders. No one could work out why they'd been put there. My best guess was that they didn't have enough food to feed people they didn't even want to keep alive, and couldn't be bothered to bury them.

I keep my dart gun close by, and Prim in sight at all times, protecting her in every way possible. But I can't protect her eyes from the terrifying sights which so accurately portray what the very worst of humanity is capable of, and I can't protect her ears, can't prevent her from listening to the horrifying stories the wounded tell as we see to them...

"They cut me up like I used to carve the meat every Sunday." Sobs one woman, clutching to Prim by the straps of her armour. "I don't think they even saw me as human. They just carried on with the torture, no matter how many times I screamed or threw up or fainted. They always had to slap me awake again after I lost too much blood and lost consciousness. How many pieces of meat do you know that have done that when you cut them up for your dinner?"

Primrose Everdeen doesn't even flinch, carrying on tending to the poor woman's wounds.

But at night, I hear her sobbing her heart out into her pillow. There are so many memories that we have now which there is no thing on this earth powerful enough to erase, and they haunt me as thoroughly as they haunt her. None of these memories should belong to us.

None of these memories should belong to anyone.

She is only 13. Still a child, barely older than the little girl who was first reaped for the 74th hunger games, no matter how mature she may have gotten.

The fact of the matter is, on a battlefield, there are only so many people you can save. And there is no guarantee of when the bombs may begin to fall, when the next disaster might strike.

It was nearly a month since we had left 13. I hadn't had a call with Gale for three weeks, but I was coping. Just. Prim hadn't spoken to Katniss since she left. Compared with her, I had it easy.

The block had already had all the pods on it deactivated, but at a high cost. Rebel soldiers in various states of injury littered the streets.

Prim and I, who were an inseparable team whether in the lab or on the battlefield, ran to the soldier nearest, whom, it became immediately transparent, was going to die.

The pavement was slick and scarlet with blood. Rolling onto his stomach, he heaved, and more blood, mixed with a quite large quantity of pus, sprayed the pavement... Prim put a hand on his back, and closed her eyes a moment.

Perhaps this had got the better even of Prim.

That was when the sirens began to wail, telling us to get into the house nearest to us at all cost. A pod had most probably been activated.

How coolly, how indifferently, I could consider this poor, brave man's death... It chilled me to the bone. But I had seen many, many deaths since coming here, and I knew upon sight there was nothing we could do for this man but make him more comfortable...

Perhaps not even that...

"Prim, we have to move!" I scream, pulling her to her feet. She slips slightly in the pool of blood, giving the man a final look as his body jerks, completely out of his control. "Prim, there's nothing we can do! Please!"

She looked back at the man lying on the pavement. "I am so, so sorry." She whispers.

I was, too. More sorry than I could say.

We made it into the house, and slammed the door shut. There were only two other people in here- Maya, and another rebel solider who had, miraculously, survived.

We stayed silent, sat on the floor of the deserted house, Prim enclosed in my arms.

Without warning, the television mounted on the living room wall flickers to life. The seal of Panem appears, and then their faces flicker on the screen, just like in the games.

I don't hear a single word they say, because I know without hearing the words Snow is speaking that the worst has happened...

It takes a moment for me to realise the person who is screaming is me. Gale, Finnick, Katniss, Boggs... Everyone. Gone.

This grief goes beyond tears. So, so far beyond tears. I feel as if I am being torn into a thousand pieces, as if the fight, as if my very soul has been torn from me... As if everything is on fire.

There is no word to describe the feeling of loss that is tearing through me as Prim gasps and begins to sob. She throws herself onto her knees beside me, her arm around my neck, and we clutch at each other as if it is the only anchor holding us to the world. The girl who has become my little sister.

Only one thought registers. They are gone. He is gone. And there is no point. To any of it.

That is when his face comes onto the screen, and I realise that perhaps there is a point to it all. A new thought begins to register, taking firm shape in the terrible darkness and despair which has rooted itself in my mind and my heart.

From that moment on, that is what I must live for.

The death of President Snow.


	27. Chapter 27

**Author's note: This story's moving too fast for my liking, but I can't seem to stop writing. It only feels like five minutes since I started it... :(**

**Sorry about the short chapter and lack of proper context. I got all traumatized when contemplating Finnick's death, and what I was going to write about Annie. I really think I need to stop taking fiction so seriously. **

**The song is Never Saw Blue Like That by Shawn Colvin. **

**I don't own the hunger games. Just this imagination which lets me picture things too vividly and makes me cry unashamedly as if I were 5 years old again, even though the stuff I'm writing isn't that sad or even particularly moving... **

Gale.

I know only one thing, and that thing is the one thing everyone else seems to be refusing to accept.

Katniss Everdeen, who is willing to risk everything to protect the people she loved, death for Prim, sanity for Peeta, her entire being for me and for Madge and Finnick and lord knows how many others... Katniss Everdeen, who has _always _risked everything, not only for the ones she knows and loves, but for the one she doesn't, for the innocent and the _blameless_**, **will most definitely not shoot Peeta Mellark, who is all of the above. Whatever he has become, and whatever she has become, she will _not _be the one to send that bullet through her brain and she will not allow anyone else to either.

Maybe she refuses to accept that she loves him. Maybe she refuses to accept that she doesn't believe he's lost. And maybe she will rant and rave about how he is a mutt, about how there is nothing left of _'the boy with the bread'. _But inside, she believes none of it. They are just words. Words because she is angry. Angry at Snow, and angry at herself, for not protecting him as well as she would have liked...

Peeta Mellark is _blameless. _Peeta Mellark is _innocent. _And she _loves him. _

None of which stop me hating him with my entire being for the danger he poses to my best friend, and to all of us.

I can see the battle raging inside of her as she contemplates him and his beg for death, though I could save her a great deal of time by telling her what she will chose, I do not. She wouldn't listen.

There are all kind of selfishness. It would be selfish to drag out Peeta's life longer, when he is clearly so miserable at the way he endangers us, and when he is so confused by the tracker jacker venom which caused him to kill Mitchell. He has been so miserable, trying to find himself again, and so has she, watching and trying to work out how the hell she could possibly help him.

It would be selfish to kill Peeta, when he sacrificed everything for her, when who he is has been so throughly destroyed by Snow... And yet there is still a chance he might find himself. It would be so incredibly selfish to kill him now, not only because of what he sacrificed for us but also because of that chance of him finding himself, which is completely and utterly still alive and plausible, whether Katniss choses to accept it or not.

It would be selfish to let him live. It would be selfish to let him die.

In the end, it is decided that he will come along with us, but with his hands still chained together. Katniss is the only one with a key.

We break into the centre apartment, Messalla raving about the inconveniences of living there. I think of my home, in 12. Poorly constructed tenements in the seam, the best my mother could afford, where every day just surviving was a challenge. Disease and illness spread like wildfire.

And we were some of the lucky ones.

Then, the memory of it on fire, framed against the blood red sunset and the heavy cloud of black smoke as I ran away, carrying an unconcious Posy and practically dragging Vick and Rory.

Suddenly, Messalla's amusing, bone headed, but essentially innocent pampered Capitol boy rant doesn't seem so amusing anymore. Nor so innocent.

Madge would have known how to calm me. One gentle hand on my arm, eyes light with laughter flickering to meet mine, her lips curving in a slight smile, and I would have felt the anger and hate which flared so unexpectedly and so strong die right out of me.

But Madge wasn't here. Anything could be happening to her right now. She could be dead for all I knew.

I had never resented the decision which she was so wise in making more than I did in that moment.

We have to step down a cold iron ladder into the ground. It smells terrible, and for a moment I am caught up in a flashback of the mines.

Then, I notice Pollux, and my flashback doesn't seem important anymore.

"My brother worked down here after he became an avox. Took five years before we were able to buy his way up to ground level. Didn't see the sun once." Says Castor.

It takes a moment for his words to sink in, before a shocked silence greets them. I have no idea what to say or how to act. Pollux is ashen faced, swaying slightly as if he might lose what little restraint he has left and crumble at any moment.

It had never seemed so important to beat the Capitol than it was at that moment. Peeta, in the end, is the one who knows what to say.

"Well then, you just became our most valuable asset."

As I march Peeta forward under guard, I happen to glance at Katniss. There is intense confusion in her gaze as she stares at Peeta, but something else, something which I haven't seen in her eyes in a long time.

Hope.

I walk without thinking, without taking anything in. My mind is on Madge, and the broadcast this evening. I wonder what she's made of it- whether she was even alive enough to see it. I wonder what challenges she faces, what she makes of this ugly, ugly war... With any luck, she won't have seen that broadcast at all.

Then again, we don't seem to be having much luck with much at the moment.

My thoughts turn to the others besides Madge whom the broadcast will have effected. Annie Cresta, Prim, Mrs Everdeen, my mother, Vick and Rory and Posy... Despite myself, my eyes fill with tears.

I'm just a little lost boy from District 12, who has never, ever felt so lost as he did in that moment.

When Katniss suggests we rest, I do so gladly. My eyes are heavy and itchy, but somehow my mind is too active for me to switch off.

Madge. Madge. Madge. My head repeats the word over and over until I eventually succumb to sleeps tempting invitation.

When I wake, a strange hissing sound fills my ears. At first, I believe I am still asleep, but then I discern it. It is not hissing. It is Katniss's name, called over and over into the darkness by something much more sinister than a leaking pipe.

We do what we can to arm the others, and then we do what we can to run. But it's no use, and everyone knows it. Not everyone is going to make it out alive.

We run and we run, the misplaced limbs and banging bringing them every closer towards us. Encountering obstacles of every sort. There are more pods here than you would have thought.

It's all one terrifying blur. It is only when Messalla's flesh melts in the strangely captivating light that it finally dawns on me that this isn't a game. That this war _isn't _a game. And that one false move- a misplaced step, breath or blink of an eye at the wrong moment in the wrong place, and it is _game _over. I'd never live to see my family, my friends, Madge or even the sunlight... ever again.

We reach the toxic bridge.

There is the smell of roses.

I fire arrows at the mutts...

There are too many.

I feel a sickening sense of something I am missing. Everything, since the moment I've woken up... I've only been taking in parts of.

Perhaps this is what Peeta fells like, all the time.

A mutt was coming at me. I felt pain shoot through my neck, flesh part from my body. I kick out, and grab the rung of a ladder. There's someone coming down. Discerning Katniss's face in the darkness, I give her the only word of consolation she is going to get.

"Climb!"

Katniss looks into the gloom, and I know exactly what she is thinking. Whats she is going to do. I shake my head.

"Someone's still alive!" She begs.

I feel incredibly woozy, on the point of collapse. I am a miner. And miners never abandon anyone unless it is absolutely hopeless.

Right now, the only thought that penetrates my skull it that it is hopeless.

I didn't know many of the Soldier's we'd lost down there personally or well. But I did know that they were brave, so brave it had cost them their lives. And that they all leave behind loved ones who will see no point in life without them.

I know that Finnick's laugh was one that could light up any room, that he was strong, and that he had lived through more than any human being ever should have to. I know that Castor was there for his brother when no one else was, that he held him up, that he threw him a light which was the only thing that could make a dent on the darkness that his life had become. Jackson, who knew that there was no mission, and yet allowed Katniss to take the lead anyway, because she knew it was right. Leeg 1, who I knew so much less than I should, and who gave her life to help save ours. Homes, so sensible and strong, able to see everything clearly through the mess of life or, in this case, death.

It is too much for me to take. Following Cressida to some Capitol apartment or other, I play a song over and over in my head. I don't know where it came from or whose it is or where the hell I picked it up, I just know I want it to stop.

_Today we took a walk up the street _  
_And picked a flower and climbed the hill _  
_Above the lake _  
_And secret thoughts were said aloud _  
_We watched the faces in the clouds _  
_Until the clouds had blown away _  
_And were we ever somewhere else _  
_You know, it's hard to say _  
_And I never saw blue like that before _  
_Across the sky _  
_Around the world _  
_You've given me all you have and more _  
_And no one else has ever shown me how _  
_To see the world the way I see it now _  
_Oh, I, I never saw blue like that _  
_I can't believe a month ago _  
_I was alone, I didn't know you _  
_I hadn't seen or heard you're name _  
_And even now, I'm so amazed _  
_It's like a dream, It's like a rainbow, it's like the rain _  
_And somethings are the way they are _  
_And words just can't explain _  
_Cause I never saw blue like that before _  
_Across the sky _  
_Around the world _  
_You've given me all you have and more _  
_And no one else has ever shown me how _  
_To see the world the way I see it now _  
_Oh, I, I never saw blue like that before _  
_And it feels like now, _  
_And it feels always, _  
_And it feels like coming home _  
_I never saw blue like that before _  
_Across the sky _  
_Around the world _  
_You've given me all you have and more _  
_And no one else has ever shown me how _  
_To see the world the way I see it now _  
_Oh, I, I never saw blue like that before _  
_Oh, I, I never saw blue like that_

Perhaps the lyrics were not applicable to my relationship with the people we'd lost. But they were to someone. And right now, with blood still pumping out of my neck and my eyes still heavy with fatigue, all I wanted was to get rid of it all.

I hadn't known them well, no.

And now I never would.


	28. Chapter 28

**Author's note: Sorry for the delay in posting this. I was helping out in physics at the open evening. Who knew setting fire to stuff could be so much fun? I'm beginning to understand how Katniss felt. I absolutely reek of smoke... **

**Sorry if this chapter feels rushed at all, it really wasn't my intention. I just had a lot to cram in, and did it at quite a pace. It's really starting to scare me how quickly this story is drawing to an end. I'm actually terrified by the prospect of writing the final chapter. It was _actually _only yesterday that I was still writing about their command meetings. **

**I don't think death is going to be a permanent state for Finnick. I was thinking it through whilst setting fire to bits of filter paper with sodium nitrate in science this evening and decided I quite simply _couldn't _have his death on my conscience. **

**I don't own the hunger games :(**

Madge.

"Who?" I ask blankly, refusing to accept this most devastating of news so soon after the news of Gale's survival. I have had to remind myself a thousand times not to act so happy in Maya's presence- she _has _lost Boggs. And there is no going back for her, no hope of survival.

His body will be returned to his home in 13, and given a hero's welcome, a respectful funeral. He will have everything he needs in death, and Maya and Dmitri will have everything they want in life, Coin will see to it... It does not change the fact that Maya is now a widow, and Dmitri is now fatherless...

Maya Boggs seems to have aged a thousand years in the past few days. Brown eyes have lost their sparkle, fine hair is matted and hangs limp around her face, her skin is ashen, dark bags under her eyes... She hasn't eaten or slept or even survived these past couple of days. She is consumed with the war, with saving as many lives as is possible, and with creating a better life for her son.

She is consumed by the idea of vengeance. The _final _victory. President Snow's death.

I _do _grieve for Boggs. His death weighs heavily on my mind. During the long months of working with him, I got to know him. No man I have ever met deserved to witness the fall of the Capitol more than him. No man I have ever met deserved the much more important honour of watching his son grow up... It is unfair in the extremes that he should not be able to witness either, and I am certain he is someone I am going to recall with respect and admiration and regret for a very long time.

It is just that the miracle of Gale's survival outweighs everything else for the time being. Despite the feeling that tragedy is waiting in the wings, biding it's time before it strikes... it looms over the camp, over the medical headquarters, putting even the most high ranking, comfortable of officers on edge...

"Trie Andrews, Madge." She answers. It takes me a minute to recall my question, but the minute I do, I wish I hadn't.

"No!" I say, my bad mood evaporating like a strawberry ice lolly on a hot summers day. "Maya, I don't trust him!"

Maya sighs, and I privately think I have never seen a more defeated looking person. "Me neither, Madge. But he is a powerful rebel leader. He has many medical resources at his fingertips. He is _valuable. _And for this we must _tolerate _him."

"No! Couldn't you-?"

"No." She snaps. There is biting impatience in her voice now, and I recoil. She sighs. "I'm sorry, Madge. I don't feel like-like myself today. But as to this, there is nothing I can do. He has proven himself to be loyal thus far. Coin, at the very least, trusts him."

"Coin's evil."

"I know. Just, make sure you have a loaded weapon at your side at all times. I wouldn't put petty vengeance past Trie Andrews, even now, in the midst of all this."

"Maya-"

She is at the door, and she looks exhausted. The rest of my protest dies in my throat. She leans her head against the doorframe a moment, everything about her suggesting she would give anything to just stay there with her grief for the rest of time.

Wouldn't we all.

"I'm sorry." I whisper. "I know you've got a lot on your mind at the moment. And I'm sorry about- you know. Everything."

She sighs, and it is laden with something. I don't know what. "Me too, Madge. Me too."

And so Trie Andrews marches into our camp, just days before our mission in the Capitol's inner circle. Whatever is going down with the war, whatever is being suffered in the districts, in the Capitol, in the barricade outside Snow's circle, I cannot help the petty hatred which rises in me like bile at the sight of him.

Rising from my seat between Rory and Prim, who were both flirting shamelessly (not at all Prim's usual style, but the whole aura of that miserable camp made you feel as if you were about to die tomorrow... I suppose she wanted to enjoy what she had with Rory while she had it.) I looked him unflinchingly in the eye.

"Still walking free, Andrews?" I ask coldly, in a way that isn't at all my usual style. "I'm surprised. I'd have thought you'd have done something traitorous by now. Something criminal."

"Madge, I- How many times do I have to tell you I'm sorry?"

"You poisoned my mother. Don't reckon there's enough time left in either of our lives for you to ever do anything or say anything that'll make it better. She's gone, and there's nothing you can do that would ever be able to bring her back." He doesn't say anything, and I'm grateful. I don't feel much like talking to him, don't feel much like explaining to him how much damage he did.

A drunken mistake, of a man who believe himself in love, a man with too much power at his disposal... That had been all it had taken. A recipe for my mother's destruction.

"You can go and sit over there now." I say. "I don't want to have to see you. And I most definitely don't want these two contaminating with your _poison_."

He sighs defeated, and walks over to the other side of the camp. Maya frowns at me, but says nothing.

I don't want to hear her unfounded accusations either. Trie Andrews was evil, and it was only a matter of time before he proved it to all of us. His reckoning was coming with as much certainty as Snow's was.

The following day, we have to say goodbye to Rory.

He's become as much as a little brother to me as Prim was a little sister. I've had fun teasing them both. I know exactly how to make Rory blush _strawberry _red now. It makes me smile, watching the promises of romance blossom. Yes, they are only 13 and 14. But in this world, nothing is certain but that death is coming, whether today, tomorrow or in 75 long, joy filled years.

I smile, and give him a small hug. He smiles.

"When we next see you, we'll all be free. And we'll all be war heroes." I tell him, the certainty in my voice unquestionable.

Prim hangs back a moment, her eyes knocked on Rory's. Suddenly, she she surprises all three of us by flinging her arms around his neck and planting a small kiss on his cheek.

Then she flees onto the aeroplane. Rory looks at me, completely bewildered and overjoyed.

"Bye, Soldier Hawthorne." I whisper. Then I hug him close for a moment, before giving him the three fingered salute of district 12, _our _district...

The salute that means respect, admiration and goodbye to someone you love. But the salute that means so much more than that, stood in a grey, war ravaged field with a helicopter whirring behind us.

A salute that means we will make it _home_, after so long, no matter the costs.

There is no guarantee I will come back, after all.

I turn on my heel and walk slowly towards the helicopter, trying with all my might not to turn around and take one last look.

Only once we are strapped in on the helicopter, with the doors firmly bolted, wings already lifted off the ground... Only then do Prim and I dare to look back. Only then do we trust ourselves not to fly out of the plane and back to him, to refuse to leave the camp which, however grim it may have been, had provided a temporary reprieve, and the beautiful company of _friends... _

Rory Hawthorne is stood exactly where we left him, one hand frozen to the cheek which Prim kissed, the other waving up at us, a huge grin on his face...

I hope I can take it with me, no matter what I face from this point forward...

I am angered to learn that Trie Andrews is on the helicopter, sat opposite me, taking a brave stab at conversation with Maya. Valiantly (in my opinion, at the very least) she is ignoring him.

As we reach the inner circle, my stomach turns over. This is it. A chain of bombs have gone off. I never would understand the Capitol... Those children were _their own... _

Killing your own children, the children who are all that stands between you and your destruction, is just downright _pure, undiluted __**evil.**_

I take Prim's hand as we parachuted into the barricade. As we fall, something captures my eye, and sense dawns through the foggy thoughts...

These bombs weren't the Capitol's. They were _ours... _

Which meant we had split seconds to get out of the barricade we had just been thrown into before we were completely taken out. A matter of less than seconds, and I could see no route of escape...

Sometimes, split second decisions define entire lifetimes.

"PRIM!" I scream. "PRIM! WE HAVE TO GET OUT!"

Trie Andrews is stood right next to us. Unconsciously, I turn to him, and see the same terrible sense that I have just had dawn on me light his eyes. And he takes something from his pocket, and blasts an explosion which blows everyone in the immediate area off their feet.

It is the first of many.

I throw myself over Prim, her human shield.

Trie Andrews shoves me into the blast in the wall of the mansion, and I tumble in, falling on top of Prim. I roll over, and catch sight of him, framed in the doorway.

He is splayed in an odd way. Sort of like a starfish. It intrigues me, but, as I know with more clarity than I have done in my life that I _am _about to die, it doesn't worry me.

It is the last thought that registers before fire fills my eyes. Explosion follows explosion follows explosions until I cannot hear a single thing. Flesh and blood from the man who had been blocking the doorway splatters across me. I concentrate purely on shielding Prim, on ensuring that if any harm is going to be done, as little as possible befalls the little girl who is so much more than just my little sister... The 13 year old girl who deserves life and to live so much more than anyone I have ever met.

Pain, unlike anything I have ever known, rips through me. As I black out, scream filling the chaos of the morning dawn, only one thought reaches my brain through the haze of flame and agony.

Perhaps Trie Andrew's reckoning had been coming for him all this time, but I was wrong. It wasn't one he deserved. It wasn't a reckoning anyone deserved. Especially not the man in front of me, who had had the strength to rise above the terrible mistakes he had made, and at least _attempt _to put them right.

Trie Andrews, I have misjudged you. I am sorry. You well and truly forgiven, in your death, in a way you never were in life.

And as the last bit of consciousness slips away, I swear I hear a man laugh. A man who, after all these years of waiting to be properly forgiven, is _finally _free...

Light. It is all I can see. I cannot feel a thing, and I cannot hear a thing either...

"Easy there." Says a gentle voice. A voice which could drag me back from anywhere, even from the very gates of Heaven or Hell...

"The bombs!" Reality sets in. I sit bolt upright. "The bombs, Gale, they're coming! We have to hide! Now!"

"Madge! Madge, it's ok! The bombs have stopped... Everything's stopped. The war is over. The rebels have won, and Snow is due to be executed tomorrow. It's all alright. Don't stand up. You-" He bites on his lip, closing his eyes momentarily. "You've lost a leg."

"I've lost a what?" I cry. I wriggle both my legs. It feels as if they are both still there. I wrench aside the pure white, antiseptic bed sheets...

And there, where there used to be flesh and blood and _life, _there is just a clump of metal attached to a small stump. I close my eyes.

"When did this happen to us, Madge?" Gale whispered. "When did we become so disconnected? So dysfunctional?"

I don't know. We were fine, when he left. The perfect couple. The _golden _couple, according to Coin and Maya... Perhaps it is over our absence, in which the fire which seemed to light everything about us and our relationship, which seemed to follow us wherever we went, flickered and died.

Every fire, however large, however raging, has to die down eventually, after all.

I don't know what to do, what to say. I know only that to carry on pretending to have this lovely relationship, insisting on staying together no matter how many times we are ripped apart not only by circumstance but by _ourselves... _It is not healthy. Not healthy for either of us.

"The bombs." I say slowly, reality setting in as I lie back on my pillows. "The bombs, they were yours."

No reply. Then, a choked voice. "I- I don't know. Probably."

"They were, weren't they?"

He sighs. "Yes, Madge. I think they were."

I open my eyes, addressing not him, but the ceiling. I can't watch his face as my next words hit home. I concentrate instead on the crack in the plaster directly above my bed.

"You are forgiven."

There is a heavy silence in which you can almost hear both of our hearts shattering into millions and millions of pieces. Once it stops, silence is all that is left.

Gale gets up slowly, then bends over and plants a kiss of my forehead. I still don't look at him, but he is looking at me as he speaks his next words.

"Goodbye, Madge Undersee." Then he turns and goes. There is nothing more to say.

Yes, forgiveness is a formidable weapon indeed.


	29. Chapter 29

**Author's note: Strike day! **

**I don't want to rush it, but I don't want to drag it out either. Rather short chapter here, but there you go. I don't want to add length just for the sake of it. **

**A couple of chapters ago, I'm too lazy to check which one, I said that it always amazes me how the entire storyline changes if you add one more character and a little bit of imagination. Here's proof. **

**The song is When a heart breaks by Ben Rector. I DON'T OWN THE HUNGER GAMES! *Insane, president Snow like laugh inserted here.***

Gale.

_I woke up this morning_  
_And I heard the news_  
_I know the pain of a heartbreak_  
_I don't have answers_  
_And neither do you_  
_I know the pain of a heartbreak_  
_This isn't easy_  
_This isn't clear_  
_And you don't need Jesus_  
_Til you're here_  
_Then confusion and the doubts you had_  
_Up and walk away_  
_They walk away_  
_When a heart breaks_  
_I heard the doctor_  
_But what did he say_  
_I knew I was fine about this time yesterday_  
_I don't need answers_  
_I just need some peace_  
_I just need someone who could help me get some sleep_  
_Who could help me get some sleep_  
_This isn't easy_  
_This isn't clear_  
_And you don't need Jesus_  
_Til you're here_  
_Then confusion and the doubts you had_  
_Up and walk away_  
_They walk away_  
_When a heart breaks_  
_When a heart breaks_  
_When a heart breaks_  
_Oh, when a heart breaks_  
_This isn't easy_  
_This isn't clear_  
_And you don't need Jesus_  
_Til you're here_  
_Then confusion and the doubts you had_  
_Up and walk away_  
_They walk away_  
_When a heart breaks_

I can't think and I can't breathe... I feel as if a thousand tonnes of weight have been dropped onto my shoulders and into my stomach. Barely able to drag one foot in front of the other... Eventually, I stop trying and collapse into an air vent, lying flat out, examining the joints in the vent.

I have to respect what she wants. That much is clear. But it hurts so much... It would have been easier if I were dead, if she were. At least then I wouldn't have to face the pain of rebuilding a life without her.

Without _her. _

Suddenly anger, red hot, sears through my veins, burning everything and bringing blissful oblivion. It's almost painful to feel as it cuts through my veins, surging through everything, leaving me completely numb. Anyone but I could have predicted that this would be my second reaction... I was Gale Hawthorne, after all, and anger was what I did best.

Not anger at Madge- she had lost her leg, for crying out loud. She had lost so much, and it was all because of me. Because of my cowardice and my anger and my hate. She was better off without me. She was the sunlight, and I was made purely of bitterness and darkness. It was _better _this way. _Better _that she wasn't contaminated by all the evil feelings which ran through me.

Anger at Coin. That is what comes. Because those bombs Beetee and I designed weren't meant for being used on my girlfriend and a young girl of 12. Both of us still had qualms about using them at all, which we had made perfectly clear all along...

Because the bombs were not meant to be used on our own people.

Maybe, just maybe, what everyone had been telling me about Coin had been right all along. It had just taken Madge getting her leg blown off and Prim losing her hearing for me to realise it...

As if I didn't already feel like some sort of prize idiot.

In the darkness of the air vent, I realized something.

I never did get my revenge.

Only I don't know who to turn to. Under the new constitution, murder counts as a criminal offence rather than just a moral one. My family still needs me. So this is going to be a lot less simple than just sending a bullet through her head...

Katniss would be a useful ally, but too rash, too like me... For once in _my_ life, I need to keep a level head, think this through properly.

Madge was perfect, except that she was in a hospital bed recovering from extensive blood loss and the loss of a limb, and that she and I weren't talking, quite possibly for the rest of our lives.

Prim would prove a good ally too, but she was so young, and had already suffered so much... She could testify, if there was a trial. Which was what I was sorely hoping for.

Plutarch didn't really care, he would only back us up if we were already backed by a lot of people with a lot of power, or if it were a case of saving his own skin. He was still stuck in his Capitol ways, putting his own safety before any small moral or shred of a scruple he had left. He would want to make sure it was a popular consensus before striking out against her.

Which left the rebel leaders. And one in particular seemed to stick in my mind.

"Paylor, right?" I ask. She looks up, exhausted, from directing some soldiers carrying a man on a stretcher toward the hospital.

"Soldier Hawthorne." She says, affording me a small, tight smile. I'm a war hero, after all, undeserving as I may be of the itle.

"Do you mind if I have a quick word?"

"Will it really be quick?"

"No, but it is really important."

She sighs impatiently, gives some last words of direction to the soldier, and leads me to her office, inviting me to take a seat in the chair opposite.

"You'd have thought a rebel leader's work would end with the war, but no." She sighs heavily. "Now, what is it you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Well, exactly that." I say.

She raises an eyebrow and takes a sip of her tea as I begin the recital of the many crimes Coin has committed in the name of winning the war. Slowly, she puts her teacup down.

"You must think we're all blind, Soldier Hawthorne." She says. "Don't think we haven't noticed."

"So, what are you going to do about it?"

"Well, we rebel leaders actually have quite a lot of power, surprising though it may seem. If you could gather up Soldier Everdeen, Doctor Everdeen and Doctor Undersee, we may have quite an impressive case against her. We need to set an example, of course, which means it will probably be on camera. And it needs to be a democratic decision, so we'll have to gather together a jury, like in the time of the ancients. People who, at the very least, appear unbiased."

"When?"

"Give me three hours." She says.

Which is how I found myself on the stage again. In front of thousands. I stare at Coin with nothing but cold hatred in my gaze.

"There is nothing more despicable, in my opinion, than a hypocrite. Someone who disguises themself as something good and pure, but in reality is just as evil, just as corrupted, as the person they allegedly despise. Alma Coin was one of these people. Whilst she preached freedom and revolution and democracy, she was plotting how she could make this work for her, plotting her _rule, _which ultimately would have been no better than Snow's. She always talked about how much value 13 put on children. So why was it she, and now Snow, who bombed those children in the barricade, an utterly meaningless loss to her, yet the end of everything for parents and siblings and loved ones across the country. Why was it her, and not Snow, who sent a 12 year old girl into combat, to certain death, in order for her elder sister to witness her destruction? All for what? So she could win the war. So her future after the war ended was certain. So she could secure her reign. Answer me this. How is that any different to what Snow did?"

No one can. I listen numbly to the testaments of Katniss, of Prim, of Mrs Everdeen... But, in the end, it is Madge's which most catches my attention. Which catches the entire crowd's...

She is wearing a chocolate coloured floor length skirt with a white blouse, her hair bound back in a lose ponytail, the curls rippling down her back. There are dark circles under her eyes. She looks breathtaking.

She doesn't say a word, not at first. Then, she lifts the skirt up to real the metal leg. She looks Coin directly in the eye.

"I am alive only because of the mercy of a man I considered my enemy, and my own intuition, my own knowledge of your evil and of the weapons you had at your disposal. Of the terrible nature of the bombs you had designed. Bombs designed to pray on human weaknesses, and human instinct. Like the ones you fired at the barricade. A wave of bombs go off. Medics, like me, like Primrose Everdeen, rush in to help them. A second wave takes them out. Never did I think that you would make it look like the Capitol had fired them, so you could win your twisted war. Never did I think that I might be on the receiving end. That you might be so without morals that you could take out your _own _people. But you did. In the end, I was a threat. Katniss was a threat. So you sent me and Prim in there, to annihilate the only people who could threaten you. If Katniss lost her sanity, and I lost my life, who could there be left who could possibly take over? Other than you. You preach childhood and innocence and everything beautiful. But in the end, it was all just words. You disgust me."

To no one's surprise, Alma Coin is sentenced to die beside Coriolanus Snow the following morning. And Madge Undersee will fire the poisoned dart which ends her life.

There is something oddly beautiful the following morning. Oddly right. I suck in a deep breath of the clean, morning air. The sunrise is blood red, scarlet. This morning, the blood shed ends. With the death of both corrupted leaders.

The sun hits the entire city with it's rays, lighting the destruction and violence which tore it apart. I watch from my balcony window.

The sun, I come to the conclusion, neither knows nor cares whether there is war or whether there is peace. Whether there is death or whether there is birth. Whether it is April or May. Whether we are happy or whether our grief goes beyond words. Whether we are here to see it or whether this violence has destroyed us all, as Peeta said it would, all those months ago.

The sun will go on rising in the east and setting in the west, regardless of the world which rotates it. Around and around and around. It pays no attention to what goes on below it as it illuminates everything with it's beauty. It cares not if we are worthy. It is a strange and beautiful thought. That the sun would go on rising whether humans existed or not. That life would still exist long after humans were gone.

That the sun would continue to rise.

The square is crowded, oh so crowded. The air is mingled with celebration, defeat, exhaustion and grim satisfaction.

There is not a single person in that crowd who has not suffered. Not a single person who will grieve, truly grieve, for the death of either president. There isn't anyone who does not act out of vengeance. And not a single person who does not deserve to get it.

Two girls who I do not know with gold and ebony curls brushing against their shoulders take their place on the spaces marked out just for them. One picks up an arrow, the other a dart. They look at each other a moment. It is lost on neither of them how monumental this will be.

The dart whistles through the air at precisely the same time as the arrow. They both find their mark with a satisfying thud, pinning both of the dictators to the post to which they were tied. The insane laughter of the man and the hysterical screaming of the woman both cut off rather abruptly, silenced with the entire square as scarlet stains blossom across their faces. Red as the roses Snow used to tend.

Katniss and Madge turn, and walk inside, leaning together for support.

I have never, ever felt so alone.


	30. Chapter 30

**Author's note: I became quite traumatized writing this chapter, to the point where I screamed at myself to stop being so stupid, and let Finnick live. An hour long conversation about apocalyptic ducks and Christmas jumper with a friend in Australia over Skype made me feel much better. Yes, I am a strange child.**

**It's one of the last times I'm going to get to write this, and it saddens me. I don't own the hunger games. **

Madge.

Annie Odair sobs unreservedly into my shoulder, and there are not enough words on this cruel earth to console her.

Pain is ripping through me at the news of the loss of my friend, at this final casualty which is the greatest blow of all... How can I hope to help her, when I cannot even help myself?

Finnick Odair is dead. He never escaped the mutts which were released from one of the pods on the Star Squads 'special mission.'

Maya Boggs was lost to the fire. Her son and only child is now an orphan.

What the hell was all this for?

So many lives have been lost. Lives of those I had known my entire life and loved just as long, like Finnick. Lives of those I had known for the shortest amount of time you would have thought possible, but liked so well the pain of their passing cut me up just as much as the ones I had known forever, like Maya and Boggs.

I can't forget anyone, I vow, there and then. Which there is little chance of, anyway. Every one of the faces is irrevocably branded on my memory.

Annie sits up suddenly. Her fingers press against her stomach, hard, as if she's trying to press it in on itself. It takes a moment for sense to dawn through the fog of confusion.

Her stomach is still pancake flat. But it won't always be.

I jump to my feet, completely forgetting about the metal leg, which takes my weight anyway. I can't yet find a flaw with it. The only way it could be improved is if it was my real leg.

"Oh my God! Annie!" I yelp. She looks up at me, her green eyes wide and lit with a strange mix of misery, fear and joy. "Annie." I whisper, sinking down onto the sofa to sit beside her. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I was too afraid." She whispers. "I was going to tell Finn. I wanted him to be the first to know. And now-"

_He won't ever know._

I finish her sentence silently in my head. Oh, Annie. Oh, Finnick.

In his place, I have to be there for her. Support her through this. "Annie, you have no need to be afraid. No need to be afraid at all. That is a promise."

She looks at me. Her voice cracks. "I can't do this. I'm not strong enough. He always did everything. I don't know how to do it on my own, Madge. I can't do it on my own! I can't!"

The hysteria in her voice is tangible, and I can feel panic rising within me, difficult to suppress. I take her hand and firmly tell myself not to be so stupid. Finn would want me to do everything in my power to calm her, not start panicking myself.

"Annie Odair, you listen to me. You are a victor. The strongest of the strong. And I know you don't like thinking about it, least of all hearing about it, especially from me. I can never imagine what you went through. But you have been through hell and back, and you survived. Finnick was not there when you won the games. He didn't do that. You did. You _can_ stand alone."

"No, I can't." She whispers, her green eyes locking on mine. "You don't understand, Madge. If it weren't for Finnick, I wouldn't have survived the games. I wouldn't have even made it this far. The arena-" She trails off. "It didn't flood by coincidence."

"Oh." I whisper, realising, quite suddenly, the circumstance which lead to Annie surviving her games. I feel as if a lead weight has dropped into my stomach.

"Finn, he knew I only had one string to my bow. Only _one hope _for survival. So he told Snow that if he didn't flood the arena, Finn would never do... you know... again. He went through that hell _for me,_ Madge! How was I meant to live with that? My survival... It was nothing! I never even left the arena! And I never stood alone, not once, in my entire life! I have never been capable of doing _anything _for myself!"

So here, the truth. The _real_ reason Annie was so unstable, for so long after she was lifted out of the arena. It wasn't truly anything to do with her fellow tribute being beheaded before her eyes- though perhaps that _was _the trigger. It was because of guilt, and of shame, as a result of what Finnick Odair had to do to ensure her survival.

I close my eyes briefly, gripping Annie's hand in both of mine still, an anchor for her and an anchor for me.

"You are having a baby. You may never have stood alone before. But now, you are going to have to. And it _is _scary. Because I am alone, too, Annie. I _know._"

"It's different. You've been alone before."

"I know. But, you know, there are different meanings of alone. Do you truly think Finnick has left you? He's with you, always, Annie. And so long as we remember, his love will never die. _He _will never die. And now, you have a child. So make sure he is never forgotten. Make sure you think of Finn, every time you see your son or daughter's face. Finn made sure that you and your child could live in a better world. Make sure his sacrifice doesn't go to waste."

She sighs, putting her head in her hands, holding it as if it's about to explode. This is a woman truly broken. Grief in it's most concentrated form.

There is a void, and it can't be filled. An aching sense of loss which makes you feel as if you will surely go mad with the pain of the whole thing.

Finnick Odair was the embodiment of everything that is good. He loved life, he loved his friends and his family. He was willing to sacrifice everything he was to save them. He was funny, vivacious, and no matter what life threw at him, no matter how many times he was knocked down, he just got up again...

I had known him since I was 4 years of age. To grasp the concept that he was gone, just gone, overnight, with no trace and no goodbyes... was nigh on impossible. To grasp the concept that he would never laugh at this absurd world with me, never smile and gently remind me that I was never alone, never cry on my shoulder ever again.

But to comfort Annie, to watch as she slowly fell apart... That was difficulty of a whole other degree.

Suddenly, she sits up. "I need to see it."

"Need to see what?"

"The place where he died." She says.

A searing pain shoots through my chest. "Annie, I'm not sure-"

"It's time everyone stopped treating me like a child!" She yells, on her feet, tears in her eyes. "I'm not mad! I can deal with it, with whatever it is! I loved him, Madge Undersee! I loved him, and I need to let him go! Even if the agony of it all rips me to shreds, I can put myself back together, so long as I can let him go!"

A line randomly comes to me, something my mother used to say. Her voice a loving, silky caress, they were odd words of consolation. But they were the words she used to say to herself, when she teetered on sanity's knife edge, and now, confronted with a woman broken and bent beyond belief, I knew the words were needed.

"Suffering has been stronger than all other teaching, and has taught me to understand what your heart used to be. I have been bent and broken, but - I hope - into a better shape."

A hint of the Annie I knew before the games enters her face. "Is that a yes?"

I sigh, and pull myself to my feet. "Yes. That is a yes."

We are both silent on the drive to the site. There are no more words to say. Annie has slipped back into a shadowy dream world from which I cannot pull her back- only Finnick could ever do that. She clutches her stomach, rocking back and forth, back and forth, whispering over and over again...

"He used to laugh, he used to laugh, he used to laugh."

Only now does understanding of who Annie Odair is- of who she always was, come to me through the darkness. She isn't mad, and she never was. There is so much judgement contained in that word- insanity.

You can tell yourself whatever you like, but she's not crazy. She's just living in the past.

I suppose that scares some people, like dead bodies and darkness scare some people. But none of them particularly scare me anymore. They are all just part of life.

A dead body is just a shell, whatever spin you put on it. It is just a person who used to be, and now is not. Just a physical representation of something you had or something that was, which is now lost into nothing.

Into nonbeing.

There is something truthful and faintly beautiful in death. Not just in the promise of nothing, but in the promise of something. The promise of a better life, even if that life is a result of your death.

Perhaps that is why it is so infinitely sad. Human beings, the most selfish people on this earth, cannot bear to let a loved one go to a life, or a death, where they dare not join them. Or perhaps it is just that they dare not live without them, not knowing what the future may hold. Not knowing if their loved one shall forget them in death, and if they themselves will forget their loved ones lost.

Either way, it doesn't seem to be the right time to ponder the origins of life and the origins of death when Annie is so lost, and when even her unborn child cannot call her back.

Descending slowly, I become suddenly afraid of what I might find. This is the scene of the death of not only the bravest man I have ever known, but also one of the greatest friends I have ever, and will ever have the pleasure to meet...

My shoes sound soft against the dank looking floor, echoing in the cavernous empty space. So much has happened here. I am terrified and intrigued by the idea of the stories these walls may tell.

There is no sign of any battle, and not even a whisper of death, of the pods that were once here...

"I think they cleaned everything up." I whisper.

"They knew we were coming." Annie whispers back. Her green eyes shine jewel bright against the darkness.

Sinking against the wall, she doesn't put her head in her hands. She doesn't rock backwards and forwards, or put her hands over her ears, or even burst into hysterical laughing or screaming...

She just looks quite simply lost.

And I am too.

I sink down beside her, hugging my knees to my chest. I wait. And I wait. I seem to wait for a lifetime before she talks, her eyes fixated on the wall opposite.

"Why didn't he come back, Madge? He said he would."

"I know." I whisper. She bows her head.

"Death has rejected me so many times. Why would he not take me, yet he took Finnick? Was it that we weren't meant to have our happily ever after? Would it really have been so hard to skip off into the sunset, like they do in the fairy tales?"

I take a while thinking it through. Concluding that it wouldn't have been so hard, and that I am angry with the entire world, but it would not be wise to tell Annie this, I flounder for the right words.

"Death is picky and death is fickle. Maybe it was because you were so happy, because you were the only ones with even the remotest chance of a happy ending. Who knows why he takes one man captive in his arms, and leaves the rest of us screaming, over and over? But maybe, Annie, it has something to do with Finnick Odair's child. Maybe it has something to do with you, making sure he isn't taken in vain. Because death always takes the best people, the most beautiful, the brightest smiles. He never takes the ones who are bitter, always rejects the ones trapped in the past, never accepts people to whom death would be a kindness. Because death isn't kind, and death is random, and death is a thief. Stealing from our midst what he has no right to take. Always the people who have so much to live for. Never the ones who don't. But I do know this. We've been spared. We've been given the gift of life. And we must accept it."

"But what if I don't want to? What if life without Finn isn't a gift at all, but some sort of terrible curse?"

I sigh. "Oh, Annie."

"Oh, Madge." She whispers back.

We climb back out slowly, blinking in the bright sunlight. Annie manages a small smile, squeezing my hand as we climb into the car.

We have sorted out what Annie is going to do. She is going to survive without him. I haven't lost Gale to death, but I feel as if I may as well have.

So only one question remains, for me at the very least.

What am I going to do now?

We draw back up to Snow's mansion, and walk back into the pristine halls. Paylor runs up to greet us.

"Annie Odair?"

"Yes." Annie replies, confused and exhausted by the long day we have just dragged ourselves through.

"There's something you have to see."

We come into the hospital. She leads us through some narrow passage and several secret doors. Eventually, we come to a painted white room, with a single narrow prison bed in it.

And sat on that bed is Finnick Odair.

Annie flings herself at him. They smash off the bed and onto the floor. Not a single word is exchanged- not a single kiss. They go so, so much deeper than that. And even if they didn't, there'd be nothing to say.

They simply cling to each other as if they are never, ever going to let go.

And suddenly the answer to my question seems obvious, and I cannot comprehend my own stupidity. I race through the corridor of Snow's mansion, until I reach the Hawthorne's compartment.

Hammering on the door so hard it seems like a miracle it hasn't smashed through yet, I am slightly taken aback when Hazelle answers.

"Madge! How nice to see you."

"And you. Is Gale in?"

Sadness sparks in her eyes, and I know long before she says the words that he isn't.

"I'm so sorry. He left for two this morning, with Posy. I don't think he's-" She takes a deep breath, pulling herself together. "I don't think he's coming back."

"Oh." I whisper.

It just wasn't meant to be.

"I can give you his phone number if you want. I'm sure he'd love to hear from you!" Her expression brightens, but I can't bear the pain of hearing his voice at the end of the phone, of realising how broken and disconnected we had become.

"No, that's alright. I don't think... I mean, I just- you know." I reply. She nods resignedly.

"Do you know what you're going to do now?" She whispers.

"Yes." I say, because this answer, too, is ludicrously simple. "I'm going to go home."


	31. Chapter 31

**Author's note: Oh my, the feelings writing this! **

**I'm so close to the last chapter now. I always think good stories stay with you for ages. Those beautiful, amazing books which when you've finished you just sit there and stare at the front cover for a while, just trying to absorb the fact that it's over, that they'll never be another story quite like it ever again. I know I'm far from there yet, but I hope I have entertained you in writing this... **

**I don't own the hunger games. No, they're not mine, however much they might feel like they are. It's really really depressing. **

Gale.

Seconds turn into minutes. Minutes turn into hours. Hours turn into days. Days turn into weeks. Weeks turn into months. Months turn into years. Years turn into a decade.

Life goes on, basically.

In the beginning, my mother kept trying to broach the subject of Madge with me. But the memories were so painful, so fresh, I couldn't discuss it with her. Eventually, she learnt to keep her mouth shut, to grin and bear, whatever it was that this crazy life had to offer.

One thing that does come to mind is the button and the note I slipped into Madge's bag before I left the Capitol. I wanted her to have a small token of me, to know that I would be waiting for her, if ever she changed her mind... I wonder if she ever found them.

The truth is that I'm not waiting for her. I had given up on her long ago, but I had done something even more important than that.

I had let her go.

However, it did not mean I was about to move on.

I hear only occasionally from the others. Finnick Odair turned up miraculously, wandering the dungeons of President Snow's mansion. He had many secret doors, which explained why no one found him before then. Annie Odair is expecting a child. Apparently it changed her beyond belief. Gave her a concrete anchor to sanity, according to my mother. In the end, however, nothing really matters but that they both _do _get their happy ending, and that there is no force left which could possibly be strong enough to tear them apart.

Katniss finally married Peeta. I couldn't stomach the wedding- couldn't face everyone, especially knowing that Madge would be there. My mother went, along with Posy, Rory and Vick. Apparently it was an extremely beautiful wedding, but nothing was more beautiful than the bride, who was radiant with her own happiness. I, however, knew one girl who would have been prettier even than Katniss. My mother did too, but took my lead in not mentioning her.

When he was 18, Rory moved back to 12, to be closer to Prim. They both got sick of having nothing more than letters and their weekly visits in District 6 (supposedly the halfway point. I think it was just the one district no one really knew them. The one District they could be themselves.) At 23 and 24, they announced their engagement recently. Another wedding I'm probably going to have to skive.

Vick is happily settled with a girl who was originally from 9, but was forced to move into 2 when she was orphaned by the war. For Vick's 22nd birthday, Rory helped me build a small, cosy cottage in 9, somewhere the young girl would finally feel at home after all these years. They both now live there, Vick working locally as a farmer, not a job I would ever have envisaged him in but a career which leaves him perfectly contented. He's a very intelligent young man, and it surprises me greatly that he can find such a manual job so fulfilling. But he does. And he shares the work equally with his girlfriend, which is perhaps what makes it so satisfying for him.

Posy Hawthorne... What can I say about Posy? She is wonderful. I love her to pieces. The light that guides the way for this ramshackle family, the glue knitting us all together. She is what they call a 'flower girl'. She never wears shoes, insists on only naturally sourced clothes, and always wears her hair loose down her back. It has reached quite a length. She has a tendency to sit in fields for hours at a time, making floral wreaths and singing in such a sweet way it makes you want to stop and listen. Completely individualistic seems to be the only way to describe her. Everyone in the district knows her, and she always seems to be surrounded by friends... Laughter from everyone around her alerts you to her presence wherever she goes. She is strange, yes- bordering on completely mad. But in a good way. In a way that is beautiful to behold...

Johanna Mason married a man from the Capitol, much to everyone's surprise. He'd been taken prisoner during the war, an avox, which suited her... She could talk forever and not have anyone interrupt her. Memories were painful for both of them, but, like Finnick and Annie, like Katniss and Peeta, they were able to share their pain and pull each other through it. I still reckon she's insane, but then again, we all have a little insanity locked inside of us. I think her husband is the one person she doesn't terrify half to death. They both live on the fringes of the pine forest where Johanna grew up.

Beetee works in some technology department. He seems much, much happier than he ever was working in defensive weaponry. He's a very decent person, much more than you'd think. All the people with the bombs _we _designed... Let's just say neither of us are getting that off our conscience for a while.

There are several more unions that _do _take us by surprise. Thom, my fellow miner from the Capitol, marries Octavia, from Katniss's prep team. Fulvia, Plutarch's ambitious assistant, marries a humble fisherman from 4. In a breaking news headline, the granddaughter of President Snow survives the wrath of the people of Panem, and marries a farmer from 11.

Everything which was an impossibility long ago is now our nation's reality. It's a happy circumstance.

And me, in two... Life is just about bearable. I am indifferent, whatever happens to me just happens, and whatever comes no one on this earth can stop coming. I may not be completely, ludicrously overjoyed for the rest of my days, like everyone else. And I may not have found my happy ending. But it is bearable.

I eat. I sleep. I work. I survive... Even if only just.

I don't hunt, because it reminds me of the best friend I lost. And I don't dwell on the past, because it reminds me of everything else I lost. Of the girl who was so much more than anything I've ever experienced.

A girl who was sunlight and strawberries and pretty white dresses and gold mockingjay pins and a smile and a whisper and goodness and a spark...

Just a small spark.

But enough. More than enough.

The girl who changed everything. Who was everything I was asking for, without even know I was asking. Who made everything so perfect for me, that every single aspect of my life was hell once she was taken away.

And I had only myself to blame.

Outwardly, there is nothing wrong with me. I live a charmed existence. I have a fancy, extremely well paid job in television, updating the public on Panem's reconstruction. I have a warm, loving family. More food in the cupboards than we could possibly eat, and more beautifully furnished rooms in our rather grand house than we would ever use.

It is so much more than any son of a miner from District 12 could ever even think of, let alone ask for.

Inwardly, everything is just one long blur. My job leaves me discontented. I feel no real passion for anything I do or say on the news. Nothing has the ability to capture and hold my attention, not when I am at work and sometimes not even when I am at home. My family are reaching out to me, but, unconsciously, I am pushing them away ever so slightly everyday. They do not need to share this darkness. It is mine, and mine alone, to bear. The food, admittedly, is a plus, but every delectable meal reminds me of a time when I struggled for each morsel I put on the table. And the grand house makes me feel small and insignificant, like a lone pea rattling around in a giant pod. It is a house, never a home.

Posy's 15th birthday fast approaches, and it feels as if all of these 10 years have been one long dream. As if I am going to wake up tomorrow and find that Posy is 5 again, crying over me having to go to war or telling Octavia she would look pretty no matter what colour her skin.

On the eve of her birthday, she sits cross legged on the carpet by the fire, her head on my shoulder. Her fingers are extremely busy, making something with some fresh flowers she has brought in from the fields surrounding the district. My mother hums in the kitchen. She too is completely happy now. For today, she is wearing a wreath of flowers Posy made her. Flowers used to sadden her, reminding her of the wild ones my father used to bring her from the woods. But today she is too happy, for some reason which evades me, to care.

"Will you take me to 13 for my birthday?" Posy asks suddenly.

"Thirteen?" I ask in surprise. Even after all these years, all the fighting, 13 still keeps itself to itself, by the large. And it's still very much underground. Not many people really like talking about it. Many still pretend it doesn't exist. "Why would you want to go to thirteen?"

"Please?" She asks. "It is my birthday! And I'll only ever get to turn 15 once. Pretty, pretty please?"

I sigh in exasperation, running a hand through my hair. "Why is it you are the only girl in the history of the world not to outgrow puppy eyes?"

"Please?"

"Fine. But you'd probably best put on some shoes if we're going to go back there. Unless you want to get blown up or something."

"Yes!" She exclaims. "Thank you! You're the best big brother ever!"

With that, she throws her hands around my neck and dumps the wreath of purple and white flowers on my head, scampering away.

We're the only people to get off in 13. The district looks bleak and unwelcoming, a squawking pack of birds the only people there to greet us.

"Happy fifteenth." I whisper disdainfully.

"Alright." Says Posy confidentially once we are inside. "Close your eyes."

I do as she asks, but slender hands tie a scarf around them anyway. Posy isn't going to allow me to cheat.

"Alright." She says, taking both of my hands. "Come on then."

I sigh impatiently as she leads me forward. "Where are we going, Rosy Posy? Can you not just tell me?"

"That would ruin the surprise, you dolt. Now shut up."

It is an odd sensation. My feet remember things my mind does not, stepping forward automatically, following the pull of Posy on my hands and the sound of her voice. The sense of deja vu is heavy, even though I still have no idea where we are going. I can picture grey corridors and windowless walls, kept completely pristine... I tread this path many times over the long months in which 13 was my home.

"Alright." She says, taking off my blindfold and flicking on a light switch. "You can open your eyes."

Open my eyes I do. And when I realise where we are, I can barely comprehend it, any of it.

It is exactly the same as the day I left the District for the last time. Right down to the pencils Posy and I scattered to the floor when we sat down on the shelves.

I turn to Posy in bewilderment. Her eyes are bright, and she's jittery in her excitement.

"Posy- What? How do you remember this place?"

Turning solemn, she takes my hand in hers. "Some memories are so powerful they are branded on your brain forever." Her eyes flicker towards the shelf. Apart from the thick layer of dust, we might have just jumped off it. "And I was so afraid that day, There was no way I could ever have forgotten." She takes a deep breath. "As it turns out, with good reason."

Tears fill her eyes for the first time in 10 years.

It's more than I can bear, and I fold her in a vice like hug. "I came back."

She pulls away, and grabs my hand, pulling me towards the wall at the far end of the cupboard.

"No, you didn't." She says.

Suddenly, the memory comes back. I look carefully at the inscription on the wall, marking her height.

"Posy Hawthorne, the day her brother went to war." I read. I see the other marking, and suddenly realise what she's getting at. "You're that tall now, aren't you?"

She smiles, and nods. "I'm so sorry, Rosy Posy, for the time it took me in coming back to you. I was delayed by my own stubbornness. Family trait, I'm afraid. But I was brought back to my senses by an absurdly clever young lady, equally as stubborn and obnoxious, and, well, long story short I'm here now."

She laughs, and throws her arms around my neck. "I've missed you, Gale Hawthorne! Now, on the way home, do you think there might be time for a quick stop off in District 12?"

You know what, Posy, I think there just might be.


	32. Chapter 32

**Author's note: This is it. The final chapter. You'll have to forgive me for the cheese feast, but I would like to take this opportunity to say that I can think of no better group of random strangers from the internet to have shared this story with. ****_Please _****continue to review. Just because I've finished doesn't mean I've lost interest. **

**The song is Fire by Augustana, and I think I've saved the best until last. And I changed black dress into black suit. I know it looks stupid and you all would have understood if I had of left it as dress, but it looked weird when I was writing as Madge. **

**And so, for the very last time: **

**I DO NOT OWN THE HUNGER GAMES! HOW AMAZING IS THAT? **

Madge.

This is the beginning of the end. Of that much I am certain, splashing water over my sweat covered, paper white face. The horrifying images, however, cannot be washed away...

My eyes stand out particularly bright in the moonlight filtering through the bathroom window. The bruise coloured bags under my eyes, too, are particularly visible.

Everyone changes. It's a fact of life.

But whoever would have thought anyone could change so much as the girl reflected back at me in the bathroom mirror?

I rest my forehead against the cool of the mirror, and sigh, closing my eyes, praying for strength one last time...

The strength to live without him.

It is exactly where Katniss finds me in the morning. An impatient sigh greets me, and a tug on my arm. "Come on."

She sits me on the sofa, not saying a single word. Peeta meets her eyes from across the living room, and hurries to the kitchen, returning with three cups of tea and a plate of cheese buns.

Amazing what winning the war has done for him. At there's some good come out of this madness- some happiness.

Katniss has never been very good at helping sort out people's lives. She's always been sort of busy trying to sort out her own. Apparently, watching me fall apart, she now feels she has to try.

"Madge, you have to rebuild some sort of life here." She says.

"We know you've lost your parents, and your home, and your entire life." Peeta says. "And it must be hard, not knowing where to start. But you do have to start _somewhere._"

"I know you're right." I say, staring at the golden brown colour of my tea. "I just- I'm finding it really difficult just to fall back into my old life."

"Then don't." Says Peeta, quite simply. "Just rebuild a new one."

I laugh. "You make it sound simple."

But it is simple, as it turns out.

I rebuild my life in District 12 the same way I build my new house, on the fringes of the wood, so that it has no kind of attachment to my old home or my parents whatsoever. I rebuild my life one brick at a time.

Occasionally, I'll add a window pane, a doorway, a roof tile. Until, eventually, I'm whole again.

Nothing is perfect. The nightmares still come, sort of. But when I wake, they ebb away, becoming more and more insignificant until they feel like virtually nothing at all.

Life, it turns out, exists without Gale Hawthorne. However hard it may be.

Unlike the house, however, I am crumbling at the edges. And sometimes, that might lead to a crack in the plaster, or an earthquake in the foundation.

"Well that's your house completed, you'll be pleased to know, Miss Undersee. Oh, wait. Paylor has budgeted for a fire. It really depends on what you want, but we really do reccomend-"

"Oh. That's quite alright, actually. I don't want a fire."

"Are you sure? It can get really quite cold, this side of the District, and you haven't been budgeted central heating."

"I'm sure I'll be just fine!"

"Hmm. I'm not going to insist, of course, but I really think you should rethink. It's all budgeted for in your government issued house outline, and it really does cheer houses up. All the other houses we've built in the area-"

Without warning, the vase I had been unpacking is hurled across the room. The poor builder yelped, but seemed to be temporarily robbed of speech.

I collapsed against the sink, my head in my hands, sobs wracking my entire body.

"Miss- Miss Undersee? Are you alright?" He sounds uncertain, a note of both concern and fear in his voice which brings on a surge of regret and guilt from me.

"I'm- I'm fine. You should go." I reply.

"Are you sure? Because-"

"For heavens sakes, just leave!" I scream at him. Obviously in fear of more flying antiques, the builder fled the house at quite a pace.

The poor man was only trying to do his job, of course. And he probably spoke only out of concern for me, only tried to share a friendly bit of advice. But the very idea of a fire crackling in the grate had my insides turning to lead. Just the word fire terrified me out of my wits.

I had had enough of fire to last me a lifetime.

The following day, Katniss and Peeta delivered my piano. It had been dropped off at their house on delivery from Plutarch as the government wasn't sure what my permanent residency was now.

Once they were gone, I sat at the stool and ran my fingers silently along the keys, not pressing a single one, just looking, just touching.

After a moment, I break down into tears.

Once they have stopped, I compose a song.

_No it don't come easy_  
_No it don't come fast_  
_Lock me up inside your garden_  
_Take me to the riverside_  
_Fire burning me up_  
_Desire taking me so much higher_  
_And leaving me whole _  
_There you were in your black suit_  
_Moving slow to the sadness_  
_I could watch you dance for hours_  
_I could take you by my side_  
_Fire burning me up_  
_Desire taking me so much higher_  
_And leaving me_  
_Fire turning me on_  
_Desire taking me so much higher_  
_And leaving me whole_

A dog barks from beside me, announcing Prim's presence.

I can't get used to having to mime everything out for her, although admittedly there isn't as much need since she got the hearing aids, which allow her to hear minimally, and since she improved so drastically at lip reading.

Lion, as she jokingly named her hearing dog, is still wholly necessary, as much as Buttercup may loathe him. It makes me sad every time I see him, a constant reminder of the tragic way in which _my _little sister lost her hearing. Then again, I did lose a leg. Perhaps she got off lightly.

She sits down beside me and watches me play with such concentration, you would have thought she was trying to memorize the small stains of every key.

I know better, however.

She is trying to hear the sounds issuing from the ancient instrument. To no avail.

I am meticulous in keeping in touch with everybody. I make a point of visiting Mrs Everdeen (who insists I call her Rosemary, especially after we become colleagues at the local hospital) and Prim as well as Katniss and Peeta as frequently as I can, and I inviting all four to dinner whenever I am free. Every Friday, I sit down and write what seems like a thousand letters. Every single person replies. I am to be Godmother to Annie and Finnick's first child. Bridesmaid at Johanna's wedding. Beetee wants some of my songs for his television show. Rory is going to visit next weekend. Vick is designing some cool robot or something, and has met a girl from 9. Posy is learning to write, and is missing me. Hazelle Hawthorne (who also insists I call her by her first name) is also missing me, but likes life in 2 well enough, though misses 12 more than she can say.

But I am kidding myself by saying I have let no relationship slip between my fingers, that I have kept in touch with _everyone. _Because there is one person I have not kept in touch with, who most certainly has slipped through my fingers. I wonder if he misses me too, or if he has gone back to his slag heap days of kissing whoever he could _snare. _

I go back frequently to the button and the note which I found in the front of the backpack which was all I brought back to 12 with me from the Capitol. The note is so worn by now from being taken out so many times that you can barely make out the words written on it, but it doesn't matter. I know what they say, in Gale's perfect script.

_Until the day after I die. Your, GH._

If I was brave, I would go to two and find him and tell him... tell him I don't know what. But first anger and later fear of what I would find held me back, until I was too late to do anything but regret, and clutch to a feeble silver button.

And so the years pass...

My 28th birthday takes me by surprise. Memories which I didn't even realise I had come flooding back, but it is the memory of my 18th birthday which sticks most. The birthday, 10 years ago today, in which I made my way back to Gale, the boy I would always love, whom I had feared dead.

I walk slowly across the square. You would scarcely recognise the district if you had not seen it being remade. It was so beautiful, with cosy red bricked houses framed against the sunset, light shining from the inside. Neat cobblestone paths, with oil lamps lighting the way. Flowers grew in the square. Bright flowers, of every colour imaginable.

I draw my shawl tighter around myself, shivering despite the balmy summer breeze lifting my hair off my shoulders. The ghosts of my past haunted me tonight more than any other night, and it was them which made me cold.

There is the sound of running footsteps. A young girl comes into my line of vision, rippling in and out of my sight as she runs under the street lamps.

It couldn't be...

"Happy birthday!" She calls.

It is. A voice I would recognise anywhere, even though the last time I heard it she was only 7 years old, at Peeta and Katniss's wedding...

"And you!" I call back. I had forgotten, up until that moment, that we shared a birthday.

She collides with me with the force of a rock. She's taller than me, though only slightly, dark hair much longer than I remember it being...

"God I've missed you, Posy Hawthorne." I whisper, pulling away to get a better view of her. "But why are you here?"

"That would be because of me." Says a voice, and he steps out of the shadows. And suddenly, all the air is solid, and I'm finding it extremely difficult to breathe.

The grey eyes lit with a mix of laughter and gravity, the olive tones skin, the dark hair falling in a graceful arch across his face, the broad shoulders, the strong looking arms...

Everything about him is exactly as I remember.

"Pretty dress." He offers.


	33. Chapter 33

**Author's note: It wasn't until I posted the final chapter that I remembered this one, which was wrote on my IPod whilst still half asleep after waking up completely inspired at midnight last night. It's good, because I have a thing about even numbers. It's a really, really short chapter, barely a proper chapter at all. You can call it a epilogue of sorts. Also, it should be Madge POV but we started with her, and I think it's only right we finish with her, don't you? **

**So here it is, for the final ****_final _****time. I don't own the hunger games. **

Madge.

It surprises you how fast time passes, and how quickly people can change. Cyra in particular takes me by surprise- seeming to spring into being from a toddler to a 10 year old to a young adult, virtually overnight. Posy too has changed over the long years we never saw each other, where no more than letters were ever exchanged. The fifteen year old girl, eternally barefooted and protesting for peace, and eternally the most beautiful girl you could ever hope to meet, was completely different to the girl I had first met when she was merely five years of age. Peeta and Katniss, Finnick and Annie, Prim and Rory, Dmitri, Posy, Vick, Johanna, Rosemary and Hazelle... all have been altered, all have been changed, not only by war but by the mere passage of time.

But perhaps change is not a negative.

Perhaps change is not a negative at all.

Gale is the one who has changed the most, especially over the decade we somehow managed to survive apart. He is a history teacher now. That's his official job anyway. It is true that he does teach history at the small school in 12, 3 days a week. But besides that he runs the hob which, despite everything that happened, despite being bombed into oblivion, survives. It is a noble profession indeed, and though it is no longer necessary for the survival of 12, a last resort for the desperate, and it most certainly does not provide the only refuge for starving families (there are no starving families left), it is a vital part of our community.

Gale is paid to relive the past. I have to force myself, day by day, to live only the present.

Not that I want to forget everything that happened. On the contrary, I want to remember every second I lived through, every tragedy which, by some miracle, I survived.

They say that passing on your fears to your children is the very worst mistake you can make…

I say, agree to disagree. Because from where I stand, passing on your mistakes to your children is the very best mistake you can make.

They also say that motherhood is the most beautiful joy life can bring. On that, there can be no argument. The fear and the love and the joy I felt when I first held every one of my three children was nearly overwhelming. So much so that for a minute, I was seventeen again, admitting to Gale that I loved him for the first time, and having him tell me that he loved me too.

Not that this life is perfect. Far from it. I am not perfect. Gale is not perfect. Our children are not perfect. We are all human. And we all make every mistake under the book. I wouldn't have it any other way.

There will always be reminders of my teenage years, every time I close my eyes and whenever I find the strength to open them, too. Remainders of the games, remainders of everything we suffered through to get where we are today.

There are moments which find me with my forehead pressed against the bathroom mirror and my eyes closing once more, desperately searching, yet again, for the strength to do what had to be done.

Each of the three times a positive pregnancy test slipped through my numb fingers. Each of the times that Katniss brought around her two beautiful children so she could sob on my shoulder, which was always the result of another of Peeta's setbacks- another time he slips into the shadowy world of the hijacking. Each of the times Gale and I happened to fight, and he ran off into the woods.

But there are other days, too. Other days where I cannot wipe the smile off my face, because I never ever thought I would be possible to get here. Not in a million years.

Not in a million lifetimes.

Each of the three times I hold my child for the first time, and every single day of motherhood which followed. My wedding day, in which I wore a plain white dress of a girl from the seam, and humble but beautiful flowers adorned my hair. The wedding day of Prim and Rory. Being godmother to each of Annie and Finnick's six children, both of Katniss and Peeta's, both of Prim and Rory's, three of Posy's, two of Vicks and the one baby boy Johanna bears who, somehow, seems the most miraculous of all. Every day where, once a month, I visit Annie and Finnick. Every Sunday when I visit Katniss and Peeta. Every other when I visit Johanna. Nearly everyday, when I see Prim in the new hospital of twelve. Every Friday visiting Prim and Rory, as well as Hazelle and Rosemary. The holiday seasons, when every single one of my loved ones and all of their many, many offsprings gather together to love and to reminisce. The family I built for myself long before my real flesh and blood were torn from me.

And every single beautiful, joy filled day that comes in between.

I become the youngest and, later, oldest mayor twelve ever had. But more importantly, I become the first democratic mayor of 12. And, I hope, I am the first of many.

My life is filled with joy and happiness and more laughter than I could ever hope to have. Sunlight overtakes the small patches of darkness, and strawberries are never far from my reach. I will always remember, until the day I die. My entire generation does, and always will. We do pass on the stories and the terror.

But we do in a way which makes our children, and our children's children less vulnerable. And we do so so no one will ever even think of making our mistakes.

Life is not perfect, after all. That is precisely what makes it so perfect.

And so, when old age and, much later, death, come for me, I greet them not only willingly, but happily, knowing that I have lived life to its very fullest, loved with all of my heart, and seen every single drop of beauty and ugliness there ever was to see.

Life, after all, was not about waiting for the storm to pass. It was about learning to dance in the rain.

And dance in the rain I had.

My name is Madge Undersee. I have overcome the Capitol, the Rebels, love, hate, friendship, loyalty, insanity, loss, grief and despair. Revolts and revenge alike.

And I have one last piece of advise, one last hope for you, whoever you may be.

May the odds be forever in you favour, as they were forever in mine, no matter how difficult life may seem.


End file.
